Before the Republic, Part 1: Dawning of the Jedi
by opalt
Summary: Before the Galactic Republic, as the Rakatan Empire faded from memory, two young orphans would find themselves growing up amidst events that would shape the Galaxy for thousands of years to come.
1. Prologue

(Author's notes: This is a work of fiction. In particular, fan-fiction. I do not claim to own the universe. Most of the characters are not official canon in the Star Wars Universe, either.)

(For anyone willing to take this story up, it is set about 25,000 years before the events of the movies, during the time of the formation of both the Jedi order and the Galactic Republic. No characters from the movies, TV shows, Knights of the Old Republic, or most of the Expanded Universe will be present. The story itself will revolve around Beriven Vaime and Marius Altaire, as they grow up in and around the events that will lead to the beginning of the Jedi Order, the Unification Wars, and the expansion of Hyperspace Travel as the Rakatan Empire fades from Galactic memory)

(Oh, and if you like it, feel free to say so. I've had a lot of people add the tale to their alerts or favorite stories, but very few who said what they liked, or didn't like about the story. Encouragement would go a long way to helping me get further along with this tale. This of it this way, I've given you permission to harass me about it.)

**Prologue, Revolt**

It was always the place of the Master to embody power, and the place of the Apprentice to covet it. The Master, by virtue of being the one who offered power to his disciples, was the measure by which the right to wield power was weighed. Should the Apprentice weigh too heavily on the scales, it was only right and inevitable that the greater power should rule.

However, even that right had to be earned.

And for an old sorcerer, who had commanded an entire world for four generations, it was a right that could only truly be wrested from his own cold, limp hands.

"Iniquitus, my lord." a timid voice announced, from below a throne of black obsidian. The speaker, fully a hundred steps down from a chair as heavy as a star freighter, and as imposing as a mountaintop, was still heard as clearly as if he stood beside the throne itself.

It was rare, on any day, to hear noise when in sight of the throne. Poets had described the horror of standing in a field, that only hours before had been the epicenter of a thermonuclear blast. So powerful an explosion that no wind would return for hours, nor any life survive, you could stand for hours or even days and hear nothing except the noises you brought with you. Those same poets used such imagery to describe the throne room of the Immortal Emperor of Coruscant.

On this heavy obsidian throne, cloaked in black cloth that covered everything except one eye, a figure glanced down at this blemish in his near perfect silence. His hands, gloved as black as the throne, rose in a gesture that, from anyone else, might have appeared accommodating. As it was, it brought the timid messenger to his knees, stammering in fear.

"What use is a messenger that cannot serve as such?" The figure asked the empty air, gesturing again with his hand. This time, in the near darkness of the throne, brilliant, tiny bursts of light seemed to dance in his upraised palm.

The messenger bit his own tongue, hard enough to cringe in pain, before trying to speak again. "I'm sorry, my lord. Rebellion."

"Rebellion? Surely there is no one so brave on this world. Even to do your duty to me, you can barely stammer the word."

The figure stood up, and glanced as if to gaze upon something beyond sight.

"Ah. I know who, and I know how. The admirals, pray chance?" Iniquitus asked. He almost sounded amused.

"Yes, my lord. The still unfinished armada. A few ships were finished ahead of schedule, kept in secret. We only know now, because of reports coming in from the army bases of these attacks."

Iniquitus made no visible response. "My apprentice?" He asked, after a long moment.

"Bid me to report to you, sire." The messenger responded, cringing. For good reason, unpleasant news was not something anyone wished to present to the Lord of Courascant. "I don't know if he is allied with this plot."

"He leads them, you fool. A single, rather serious oversight on my part, to allow such weapons to slip from my grasp. But I wonder..." He said, sitting back down on his throne. "Bring me the base commander, and every general still in the city." He said eventually, a little louder.

An attendant near the messenger bowed, as deeply as he could in a kneeling position, and stood up to leave.

"And bring me Aryan Maizer, the engineer." The old sorcerer added.

"The inventor of the energy shield battery?" The attendant said.

"Did you really need to ask?" Iniquitus said, raising his only visible eyebrow.

The attendant bowed again and stepped through a small door to the side of the entrance.

"As for you," The Lord of Courascent said to the messenger, "I want to know why you had to deliver this news in person, rather than cabling a message to my attendants." The words were spoken softly, barely more than whisper, but every word was as clear to the messenger as if they were spoken straight to his ear.

"My lord, I was instructed to bring you a small package, and to present it and this news to you directly. I was told that any deviation would make the situation worse."

"Of course you were." The old sorcerer said scornfully. "What did my apprentice bid you to bring me?"

Out of his jacket, the messenger extracted a small cylinder. Slightly larger than a flashlight, made entirely of metal, it looked at first glance like the handle of a plasma torch or a hydro-spanner.

"My lord, forgive me, but I don't recognize it." He said, holding the item upraised in his hands. He moved forward to present it, but the master held his hand straight in the air, bidding him to hold still.

The lord of Coruscent held his hand out, as if reaching for a cup on the shelf. The cylinder leapt from the messengers hands, sailing in a steep, nearly straight arc into Iniquitus' outstretched hand.

He gazed at it impassively for a moment, as if it were the most common thing in the world. His expression changed, quickly, when he began rolling it in the palm of his hand, holding it as if one would a flashlight.

"Did my rebellious little disciple say anything about his message?" Iniquitus asked into the air. He gazed down at the messenger after a few moments, scowling.

"No, my lord." the messenger stammered.

"I see." Iniquitus replied. He lifted the cylinder into the air, point outstretched to the ceiling above him. His thumb moved, slowly, to the latch on the side.

With a squelch of rushing energy, a beam of brilliant red light leapt from the end of the cylinder. The various attendants in the corners of the room, their faces in stark relief with the new light, stumbled backwards in surprise.

The light, surprisingly, held a solid shape and extended no more than four feet from the end of the cylinder. It gave off a menacing, low hum that suddenly seemed to howl when Iniquitus would swing it through the air.

It was, though, the light that seemed to terrify everyone else in the room. It was red, as dark and menacing as the colour of blood on a wall.

"So, this is the last piece of his plan." Iniquitus said, more to himself than to the terrified servants in the furthest corners of the throne room. "Inspired, though insipid. Instead of growing powerful enough to counter my strength, he searches for a way to neuter it."

He took the first of the three dozen steps on the obsidian pyramid that made his throne. Each step he took was punctuated by the howl of the energy blade in his hand as it cut through the air.

"Do you know what the only true crime is under my throne?" Iniquitus asked, staring directly down at the messenger as he took another step.

Three more steps, with three more howls through the air, were heard before the messenger stammered a reply. "Disloyalty, sire?" He asked.

"Exactly. Disloyalty. Not even stupidity, as detestable as it is, can be considered a crime under my throne." Iniquitus answered, still marching slowly from his throne.

"I fear, that you are guilty of that single crime." He added, quietly.

"My lord?" the messenger began, but another wave of the energy blade cut him off.

"You stink of fear. The terror of the weak as they discover their lust for life isn't matched by their capacity to keep it. If you were wise you would deny it. If you were quick you would already flee. But you are only weak, and having failed to use whatever meager capacity allotted to you, to inform me right away of this rebellion, you demonstrate not only stupidity, but disloyalty." Iniquitus said, stopping on the step above where the messenger still knelt.

"But my lord, I came directly to you..."

"And obeyed the directions of those rebelling against my throne." Iniquitus finished, in a voice one could almost mistake as kind.

"My lord, please!" The messenger began, looking up just in time to watch the red blade flash once.

The weapon shrieked, briefly, a high pitched counter-note to its usual howl, as it cut through the messenger. The blade stopped, and Iniquitus had a full moment to turn around and take a step back up to his throne before the body crumpled to the floor.

"Flesh is no more than air to this blade." Iniquitus remarked, smiling. "Quite a weapon, my erstwhile apprentice. Quite a weapon."

He took a few more steps up to his throne, and turned the latch back. The blade vanished from sight, leaving no mark of having existed.

"Have the garrison generals responded yet?" Iniquitus asked the room, starting back up the stairs to his throne.

"All of them have, sire." Came a voice from one of the dark corners of the room. "The troops are being deployed to the outskirts of the city, and preparations are already underway to move civilians out of potential combat zones."

"That's rather foolish, isn't it?" Iniquitus asked. "Step forward, General Verre, and explain to me why the troops, already inadequate, are spread so thin and preoccupied with coddling the weak?"

"You know my concerns towards the citizens, sire." General Verre answered, softly. He bowed once, perfunctory, before standing up straight and standing at ease. It wasn't missed by anyone in the throne room that his quiet voice still held iron.

"Ever with two masters, General Verre. The unique thing about you, of course, is that self-glorification is not one of them. Myself and morality, the need for order against the dignity of the lives that order protects, the two governors of your every action. Tell me, General, do you suspect that this rebellion may serve your other other master better than I?"

The general flinched, but did not look away. "I considered it, sire."

"And decided otherwise, or you would not stand before my throne right now. So tell me, why have you spread the troops so thinly, and wasted the best resource we have to slow down the coming armada?

"My lord, under the circumstances, holding the capital seems beyond the capabilities of the garrison. I have actually come to advise you to flee the capital, join the armies, and return." General Verre explained.

"I see." Iniquitus said, with a small smirk on his face. "You're quite right, of course, if I were depending on the garrison to hold the city."

"You have another plan, my lord?" General Verre asked, as the smaller doors opened again.

Ushered inside by robed attendants, a ragged looking woman well beyond middle years stepped into the room, and knelt immediately before the obsidian throne.

"You may stand, Aryan. We're a little preoccupied to demand the usual forms of obedience." Iniquitus said. "How long will the shield batteries last if you were to cover the entire city?"

"Only five hours, sire. Each battery could only be used to cover the entire city for half an hour." Aryan explained, quivering.

"And if we were to only cover the palace?" Inqiuitus asked.

"Almost three days, sire."

"If the generators below the palace were used to recharge the used batteries in turn?"

"That would depend on how long the batteries take to charge. If it takes an entire day to recharge a battery, then you would only gain a single day. If the batteries took less than seven hours to recharge, you could maintain it indefinitely." She explained, staring up at the ceiling as she thought through the calculations.

"Four days will be more than long enough." Iniquitus reflected, to himself. "General Verre, reassign your troops to prepare to hold the palace and inner-city from a small-scale ground assault. Assist Aryan Maizer in her preparations for the energy shield, and insure the public is informed that it's in their best interests to leave the capital."

Iniquitus climbed back to the obsidian throne, and sat down. "Oh, and inform the army generals that it's in their best interests to properly mobilize their forces before they come to reclaim the capital. I expect them to be here four days from now, but I expect them to come prepared to take down the unfinished armada."

"Your will, sire." A number of the attendants spoke in unison, bowing deeply and stepping from the room.

Aryan moved to leave, but General Verre still stood, looking up at the obsidian throne with a concerned look in his eyes.

"What else, General?" Iniquitus asked.

"The armada will still have their irregular commandos. The divisions being trained for clandestine high-altitude descent and ship-boarding. While professional, the capital guard and the garrison won't be adequate to hold off a determined attack from such forces. Even adding the civic security forces and the police to the defense of the palace won't improve our capacity much. Are you sure we can hold for that long?" General Verre asked.

"Someone more inclined to foolishness, or less forgiving of impertinence, would have failed to see your redeeming qualities as a general. Your tactics will have to accommodate the need to avoid costly conflicts while not allowing the enemy to gain a foothold. Explosive and traps should be employed." Iniquitus commanded.

"We will do all we can." The General said, standing to attention and giving a sharp salute.

"If it comes to it, General, I will take the field myself. But for now, we can only prepare, and watch carefully as our enemy makes the opening move."


	2. Chapter 1, Intertwined Fates

Farmers, pioneers, and settlers, who earn honest livings by labour and trade, are often the first and most accessible victims of thieves and tyrants alike. On a moon like Luxum, where there was no law to insure either an absence or a monopoly of either, outlaws were more dangerous than the wild. Honest folk, who labour themselves to exhaustion and spend their nights recovering from it, are often the first casualty of such a reality, and even the well prepared often loose something precious in order to drive off such opportunists.

Perhaps the only thing in overabundance in the larger towns of Laxum are orphans.

Death was all too common, and between earnest parents hiding their children from the guns of invaders, and the fickle sympathies of bandits, it was hardly unusual to see small gangs of children in the streets, rooting through trash or begging for food.

Charity, the indulgence of opulence, was in short supply in Laxum, and survival was no one's problem but their own. Those that could, would find farmers or tradesmen, and for dinner scraps and a corner to sleep in, would spend their days at work. Such work was harsh, demanding, and hard to find.

But survival had no specific demands, besides success. There was always potential for the lucky, the swift, the resourceful, the cunning or even the noble, to forge some measure of success for themselves.

There were two, in the city of Vos Ma'ar, who were successful enough to be charitable.

For certain, these two were hardly richer than the streets they scavenged from. Their successes were hardly more than enough to scrape them away from the fear of starvation and hunger. But they were capable enough to be able to give, and freely fed as many of their comrades as they could.

These two were brothers, born worlds apart and genetically as distant as any two planets in the galaxy. Orphaned, abandoned to the most fickle of fates, they had readily radiated to each other as if the entire galaxy couldn't keep them apart.

Too young by far for romantic complications, their bond was at once the fierce and bold friendship of youth, and the deep, resilient camaraderie of shared suffering.

One carried the name of Marius Altaire. His parents, some of the earliest settlers of Laxum, were the victims of opportunistic raiders. Shoved into a shelter, and given enough food for three weeks, he was told to stay inside until he had no more to eat.

He had climbed out of that hole, almost a month later, weak and starved, to find his family long dead and his home in ashes. Bereft of help and ignorant of any skills to survive in the wild with, he made his way to the city for food and anonymity.

The other, Beriven Vaime, had arrived on Laxum in his third year of life, his already slim prospects as a slave made worse as his parents died on the voyage. His inattentive masters, already overtaxed and with little market for weak and malnourished mouths to feed, turned them all to the streets to cut their own losses. As his companions found impovershed freedom too trying a task to struggle for, he slipped into the underworld of Vos Ma'ar to fight for the scraps left over from indulgent prosperity.

It is still said, six years after, that the moment the two boys found each other for the first time, that they embraced without a word and cried together for hours. Some thought it was their understanding of each other's suffering, and others thought it was a recognition of someone they each could trust as more than a brother, as a missing part of their own flesh.

The day they met was a bad morning for a large grocer, put under sudden bankruptcy by debt collectors with a sudden fear for money they would never recollect. Hard men, enforcers of gang bosses and criminal syndicates, had already brought most of the owners to meet their debtors, and those that survived did not go back whole. The rest had fled, and the stores were left untended.

Stories of untended food brought much of Vos Ma'ar's poor, and the insuring riots left ample opportunity for ambitious children to seize more food than they might normally see in half a year.

Marius was almost first on the scene, slipping inside from a narrow catwalk across the roof. His own information was better than most, as he had watched from a hiding hole as one of the owners was dragged from their own front doors. Having put the idea of missing owners with the rumors of an untended grocery store together faster than most, he was inside well before dawn, where an absence of competition and an overabundance of food left him as safe as he had ever been in life.

First, he gleefully did what every hungry child would do in his place. He gorged himself on fruit and pastries, trying everything his little hands could reach and caring little for finishing anything except what his starving tongue demanded more of.

It wasn't until his stomach ached, and he lay sprawled on the floor, beside a half-eaten cake, that he heard other voices.

"We have to figure out a place to store as much as we can." came a child's plaintive insistence.

"We have'ta stuff ourselves, first." Another voice responded, insistently.

"Well, yeah, but there's enough food to live off of for years, forever even. We've gotta find a place to stash some of it." that first voice said, and the footsteps of a number of children could be heard between the voices.

"Why bother moving any of it, if we can just stay here and eat it all?" a third voice asked, and the footsteps stopped.

Intrigued, the boy struggled to his feet and tip-toed around the corner, hiding as best he could to listen.

"Cuz'," The first voice insisted again, and Marius was close enough to see the faces those voices belonged to. "If we found this place, other people can. It's not safe enough to hide the food."

"And who's gonna hide all the food, huh?" Another, unfamiliar voiced asked accusingly. "You think we can trust it all to you?"

"No, dumb-ass. We're all gonna hide it, cuz we're all gonna need to carry it." The first child said.

"Don't call me a dumb-ass, squirt." One of the kids said. Marius could tell that this boy looked quite a bit larger than the boy trying to get this group to cooperate.

"Well, if you're just going to pig out on all this stuff until someone takes it away from you, and go hungry again, then you are a dumb-ass." The offending boy said again. He turned around as he said it, and was just in time to watch a large fist strike him in the face.

The little boy spun halfway around in the air before he collapsed on the ground, his hands on his cheek and a fiery expression on his face. The other boys crowded around, a few of them trying to hold the larger boy from following up.

"I told you not to call me a dumb-ass!" He shouted, trying to push his way past three other children.

"I know a place to hide some food!" Marius shouted, surprising everyone in the room.

The other boys began to shout and point. "Hey, who's that?" was the most common question before the children quickly surrounded him. It wasn't long after that before the questions became violent.

"What should we do with him?"

"What if he tells someone?"

"Should we throw him off the roof?"

"We can't let him eat our food!"

"What if he screams as he falls? Other people will know we're here."

The boy who had been punched stood up, and stepped over to the group.

"He's an orphan, like us." He said, and a few of the smaller children stepped aside for him.

"So what? That just means he's gonna eat more of our food!" One of the boys said, and a few others shouted in agreement.

"He can't. A hundred people could eat at this food and we'd never notice." The large boy said, in agreement. He looked sheepishly at the smaller boy he had punched, and the smaller boy shrugged, and smiled.

"You say you know a place where we could hide some food?" The small boy asked. He crossed his arms and stepped out of the group, frowning a little. "Where?"

"Nuh-uh, you're not getting that for free." Marian insisted, feeling a little bold.

"Oh, really? What makes ya think we can pay ya for it?" the small boy asked in response.

"Cuz with lookouts, a scout on the roof, and people to carry it, we can get a lot more food stashed than I can by myself." Marius said defiantly.

"He thinks like you do, Berry." The large boy said, smiling.

"Stuff it, Thug." the boy named Berry spat out. "So you want a stake in the food if you offer us a place." the small boy said. "That's fine, if you tell us a good place."

"Why should I trust you?" Marius asked.

"Because it's a lot harder for us to trust you if you don't." Berry replied.

The two boys stared at each other, eye to eye, for almost an entire minute. Neither one of them blinked, fidgeted, or looked away for too many moments. The other children gaped at them, and whispered to themselves.

All of a sudden, both boys laughed. The kind of laugh that comes from more than humour, a laughter you could imagine hearing from faeries in the trees, or from a mother who just gave birth.

The stomachs gave out and both of them fell to the floor, still laughing as if nothing in the world had ever been funny before.

"The third abandoned warehouse on the moon-side of the space port." Marius said, heaving air into his overtaxed lungs. "The whole area isn't used by anyone, and the solar generator on warehouse two still works. Best of all, there's even a freezer unit."

"A freezer, really?" Some of the other children whispered to themselves, their own suspicions of this new boy forgotten.

"We might even have to steal a stove." The boy nicknamed Thug said, with a breathless note of wonder in his voice.

"I'm not carrying it, Thug." Berry shot out, breathing hard to catch up to all of his laughing, as he forced himself to his feet.

"I guess we should make you a part of our group." Berry said, holding a hand out to Marian, who was still sitting on the floor, taking in deep breaths.

"Marius Altaire." Marius said, as he took Berry's hand and stood up.

"You remember your last name, huh?" Berry asked. "Anyway, I'm Beriven Vaime, but everyone here calls me Berry. You can too."

Berry turned to the group behind him, and began pointing at people. "The big guy that hits people to make him feel smarter is Thug. He's actually Thursen Bartimus, but Thug is closer to what he really is."

Berry scanned the other few people in group, five in all, and said "Ah, heck. I'll tell you who the rest of them are later. We've gotta get this food moved."

Everyone else began shouting in protest. A few of them rushed past Berry to Marius, and the smallest girl in the group, fully a head shorter than Thursen, angrily kicked Berry in the shins.

"You gotta introduce us!" she shouted, with enough force that everyone else stopped to look at her. "He can't be part of our group if he doesn't know our names."

"Yeah!" came a few intermittent cheers, and Berry held his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright. The shin-kicker is Thema." Berry started.

"The tall girl over there," and as he spoke, Berry pointed to a girl nearly half a hand taller than himself, who still hadn't said a word. "is Anita. She doesn't say much at all, half the time we wonder if she knows how."

Anita held up her hand, giving Berry a nasty gesture, and sneered.

"The boy beside her is Mystery." He pointed at the shortest boy in the group. "He doesn't talk about himself much, he doesn't even want to tell us his name. So we just call him Mystery."

The boy called Mystery nodded in greeting.

"The alien kid here," and saying this, Berry pointed at a child with sallow green skin, and two large tentacles extending from her head. "is Tha'varr. Did I say that right?"

Tha'varr nodded. "You know you did, Berry."

"And the runt of the crowd is Bug." Here, he pointed at a child hardly more than four years, who stood nearly a head shorter than even Thema. As Berry pointed at him, he hid behind thug.

"I thought up his name myself." Berry added.

Thema stepped past the group, and carefully walked up to Marius, as if afraid of making too much noise. As soon as she was in arms reach, she extended her arm, poked him in the gut, and said "Merry."

"Marius is too long. Merry works better." Thema added, with a shrug, back to the group. Berry opened his mouth as if to object, but Thug roared in approval, and the group rushed around Merry.

They clapped him on the back, hugged him, and cheered as if nothing happier had ever happened before.

For the life of an orphan on the street, it might have been true.


	3. Chapter 2, The Lucky Orphans

It had taken almost a week for the debtors to begin collecting the grocer's surplus stock, during which time the children had a near monopoly on whatever they could get their hands on. On the few occasions they were threatened, they would happily relate the size of their score, and admit their inability to take nearly as much as was there. This was enough to deflect the greed of anyone they came across.

"We should take it in shifts." Berry said.

"Two people sleep, one person on the rooftops as a spotter, one scout, and three haulers." Marius suggested.

"But why?" Thug asked. "That means only three people are carrying food. We won't get enough that way."

"If two people sleep, then we have two rested people who can carry more food later. If we do it in shifts, we can keep taking food until they stop us from doing it."

"But why a spotter and a scout?" Tha'varr.

"Because we need someone who can rush off to distract people, and someone else to warn if people are getting too close." Marius asserted.

"I want to be the scout." Thug said.

"Not likely. You're the biggest, so you can haul the most food." Thema insisted.

"Why do I have to haul the most food?" Thug asked.

"Because you're gonna eat the most." Thema said, with a giggle.

"Actually, in case someone wants our haul, we need you with the food in case there's trouble." Berry added.

Thug nodded in approval. "You and Merry really do think the same."

"Yeah!" Antia agreed. "We've been doing pretty well ever since we found Berry. With another brain, it can only get better."

"We'll make Tha'vaar the spotter." Berry said. "A lot of people hate aliens, so we definitely can't make you the scout. And since you can talk in that weird speak, you can warn us without giving us away."

"Good thinking." Marius agreed. "And Bug is the fastest person here, and can fit into the air ducts still. He'd make the best scout."

"Then that leaves me, Berry, Merry, Mystery, Thema and Anita to haul the food." Thursten said, counting people off on his fingers.

"So the two people resting should always be haulers, since we're taking heavy loads." Anita said. "What should the resters be doing?"

"Resting." BugBug said sarcastically. "Duh."

"Not just resting." Marius said. "They should check to see what kind of food we need most, that we don't have. Like if we have too many veggies, or not enough beans. They can do that, and organize the fridge unit so that there's more space to put stuff in."

"So who's the first resters?" Anita asked.

"You and Thug." Marius asked, to a chorus of questions from everyone, including Berry. Marius waited for a little while, before answering.

"Because it's pretty early in the morning still, so we won't need Thug for a little while. Berry and I need to decide what kind of food we start to take first, and figure out good places to for Tha'varr to watch from. We also need to figure out the smartest route." He said.

"And we need to make sure either me, or Merry is in the hauling group at all times." Berry said.

"How come?" Thug asked.

"Cuz someone with brains has to be there, and you don't qualify." Berry said.

"Brains don't haul food any faster." Thug pointed out.

"But brains will know what to do if there's trouble. Merry will know when it's better to run, fight, or bargain." Berry countered.

"When did Merry become the leader?" Anita asked.

"He didn't. We don't have leaders, just roles."

"Yeah, roles." Thug said sarcastically. "Like the leader role."

"If there's any leader here," Marius said. "It's Mystery. Because if he said anything, we'd all be too shocked to disagree."

The others laughed, for a long moment, before they all heard "exactly" come from Mystery's general direction. They turned around to see him smirking, and stared in silence as he stood up and moved a little further into the circle.

"See? Too shocked to disagree with me." He said, with a smile. Everyone laughed again, harder than before.

"I think," Mystery said, as the laughing started to die down, "we need a name for ourselves. Every good group deserves a name, and we're all lucky to have each other. So I thought the lucky orphans would be a good name."

No one said anything.

"That's more than I've ever heard Mystery say." Berry noted.

"Same here." Anita agreed.

"Mystery?" Tha'varr asked. "Are you okay?"

"We feel like a family now." Mystery answered. His voice quivered a little.

"To the Lucky Orphans!" Thema shouted, taking a bottle of juice from the shelf and punching it in the air.

The others followed suit, saluting each other, their company, and their denial of the misery of their lives.

The makeshift cart that wound its way along antiquated pavement had two wheels, though neither one was the same size, or even made of the same material. Upon finding a wooden board and a mechanical wheel, Thug had taken it on himself to borrow one of the small, round tabletops from a cafe. Though ponderous, the cart allowed three people to carry almost twice as much without having to worry about exhausting themselves.

"Good thinking, Merry." Thema said, for the fifth time, as they stopped at a street corner and looked up for Tha'varr. "I really didn't want to carry all those canned minche beans."

"What are you talking about? You'd claim you couldn't carry it, and make me haul it the whole way." Thug protested.

"You know you would." Marius agreed.

"Would not!" Thema insisted, sticking out her tongue at them. They all laughed, a little too freely for what they were doing, but they had found that, of late, they laughed more often than they used to.

Mystery only smiled, a warm, satisfied smile as if he were newly wrapped in a warm blanket.

From above their heads, they heard a guttural hoot very similar to an owl, followed by two quick clicks of the tongue.

Marius looked up, and made a similar hoot, which broke off in an abrupt 'ch'.

He grinned at Thema, and said "It's clear. No one in sight."

"You can understand what she's saying?" Thug asked, startled.

"A little. She's been teaching me a few phrases. She can tell me if there's trouble, but she can't tell me what kind of trouble."

"Still, I can't understand any of it. She even tried to teach me." Thema said, with a little bit of awe.

"I'm not very good. She thinks I sound like a squealing Gizka." Marius admitted.

Thema laughed again, and picked up the front end of the cart. "Thug's turn to walk without lifting?"

Marius set his hands against the back end, stabilizing it. "Yep."

They had only gotten a few more steps, when they could hear Tha'varr from up above them shouting in that language no one understood.

"Uh oh." Marius said.

"What did she say?" Thug asked.

"Dunno. Can we hide the food anywhere?" Marius asked, looking around.

They heard footsteps, and the three of them looked at each other, knowing that they had no time.

They turned to watch four men step around the corner. They were tall, mean looking men with large truncheons in their hands. One of them wore a blaster pistol at his belt, and all of them smelled faintly of alcohol.

"Hey, kids!" One of them said, stepping up towards Marius. "What are you doing!"

Thug stepped up and said "what do you care?"

Marius cringed to himself, and kicked Thug in the shins just before the man closest to them began to draw back his fist. "Sorry sir." Marius said, quickly. "He worries about us a lot, is all."

"You should watch your tongue better, boy." One of the other men said. None of them made another move to chastise Thug, however. Thug, for his part, was hopping on one foot and cursing under his breath.

Knowing he would be asked again about the cart, Marius took the momentary silence to think as quickly as he could for something to throw off suspicion. "We're doing a delivery, sir."

"Oh really? A food delivery, less than three minutes away from a bankrupt grocer who can't afford to guard his stock?" The lead man asked, fishing out a can of minche beans. "You look like a bunch of thieving orphans to us."

The others stepped forward, and Marius, already nervous, knew he had only another couple of moments before they wouldn't listen at all.

"Please sir! He gave us this list, and told us he'd give us a ducat each and some candy if we did it! I'm sorry, I didn't know we were stealing!" Marius pleaded, forcing himself to cry a little.

Two of the men cringed a little, as if a child's crying were contagious. "Who told you to get the stuff on this list?" One of them asked, softer than they had spoken before.

"A big man, tall like you, but fatter. He wears a white suit with food stains on it, and he told us to bring it to the back of a pub near the big fountain." Marius said, handing the men the list.

"The stump?" One of the men asked. "Isn't that the boss' dive?"

"He must have tipped off the cook." Another one said.

Marius forced himself to swallow the sigh of relief, and asked plaintively "Are we going to be okay? I don't want my friends to get in trouble."

"What does this list say?" The first man asked, handing the list back.

"Minche beans, dried lentils, sprouts," Marius started, but was cut off by an angry wave from the man standing in front of him.

"He can read. He can't be an orphan." He said, turning to his companions.

"That settles it, then." One of them men said, and he stepped around to talk to the children. He actually bent a little, so that his head was almost at eye level with Marius. "You're good kids, so I won't cause you any more trouble. We're looking for the men that own that grocery store, though, so if you see him, let the cook know. Okay?" The man asked, and taking Marius's hand, pressed a ducat into his palm.

"You don't need to go out of your way, just if you see him in passing." The man added, as the other three started walking away.

They waited for the dozen heartbeats until the men rounded and the corner, after which, Marius breathed a sigh of relief and sunk against the wall.

"I didn't know you could read." Thug said, surprised.

"How do you think he's going to read Berry's list, stupid?" Thema shot at him, hefting the front end of the cart again.

They started up again, making sure the men were out of earshot, before Thema said "Thug's right though. You really do think like Berry."

"How'd you know the cook at the Stump?" Thug asked.

"I don't." Marius admitted. "I just know that there's a pub there. I figured since a cook's near food all the time, that he'd be fat."

"Oh." Thug said.

They heard another loud pattering of feet, and Bug ran around the corner, panting heavily as the stopped in front of them.

"Some-" He heaved, gasping for air. "Some-one, coming."

"We know, they caught us already." Thema said.

"Some scout you are." Thug added.

"Lay off." Bug said scathingly. "Where'd you get the cart?"

"We made it." Marius replied. "You figured we were going slower, huh?"

"Yeah. I looked everywhere to warn you guys. Sorry." Bug said, sheepishly.

"All right then." Marius said, and reaching into his pockets, took out another sheet of paper crumpled up along with the food list Beriven had written. "This is the route we're taking there and back. You know where it is, right?"

"Right." Bug answered.

"All you need to do is get on that route right where you figure we would be if we were going fast. Once you're there, and if you don't see us, just assume that we're going a little slower, and head that way. No short-cuts, all right?" Marius explained, holding the map along the side of the cart and pointing at it.

"Where'd you get the map?" Thug asked.

"Berry drew it. We scrounged up some paper and a few pens along with the first load." Merry explained.

"Berry can draw maps?"

"Yep. He's a way better artist than I am." Merry exclaimed, showing the others the map. He pointed at the large fountain, which looked almost exactly as it did from overhead.

They picked up the cart and had Bug scamper down their route, Thug and Thema hefting the load this time. Tha'varr had come down from the roof, and tugged at Marius' shoulder.

"Isn't that dangerous? Using a lie like that? If they talk to the cook at the stump, we could be in a lot of trouble." Tha'varr said.

"I'm thinking about that. I'll wait until we get to the warehouse, but I think I know the best way to fix this lie." Marius replied, holding up the Ducat to the sunlight.

"What?"

"Make it true."

The rest of the trip passed without event. They discovered that with a few blankets they could keep the food out of sight, and a few orphans pushing a makeshift cart looked a lot less conspicuous than children carrying heavy loads waiting for a lookout. This let them pass people they would normally have hid from.

"Merry! Where'd you find the cart?" Anita asked, as Mystery silently began to unload their latest haul.

"We made it!" Thug said proudly. "I even invented that wheel" he added, pointing to the tabletop that made the left wheel of the cart.

"You invented the wheel?" Beriven asked incredulously. "What cave did they thaw you from?"

Thug cracked his knuckles and scowled, but everyone else began storing the food.

"You guys made good time with that cart." Anita said. "More food faster."

"But it might make us more noticeable." Beriven noted. "We'll need to be more careful. Were there any problems?"

"One." Marius replied. "How much is a Ducat worth?"

Marius held the coin up as he asked, and even the other children on the trip with him, who hadn't seen him receive the coin, gathered around him in wonder.

"A Ducat?" Beriven said, his eyes widening. "You could buy half this cart with ten of them."

"I can get us another eight, but if we're going to do it, we need to decide quickly." Marius said, and explained the incident with the thugs. Despite the possible problems they faced, no one pointed any fingers in blame.

"This could be really good, actually. If we make it look like we're doing this for the mob boss of the city, no one will lay a finger on us."

"And it should only cost us one cart trip." Marius said.

"Really? How?" Thema asked.

"It's easy. We go over to the stump, and offer to bring the cook a load. We tell him to write a list, we bring it to him, and then we're in the clear." Marius said.

"We could get even more than nine Ducats!" Thursten noted, but Beriven shook his head.

"No. We can only make nine. One for each of us as the price, and one from the thug." Beriven said. "It's best if the lie Marius used becomes true, and he set the price at a Ducat for each of us, and some candy."

"Oh." Thema said, looking a little forlorn.

"What is it?" Marius asked.

"It's just that one of the stores has thermal sleeping bags on a clearance sale. A ducat and a half each." Thema replied.

The group looked at each other for a long moment. The prospect of being warm, as well as fed, seemed a distant dream only three days ago.

"Don't worry. Even though we can only buy six, there's a lot more blanket for the two of us who're left out." Beriven answered.

"What makes you think you're not going to get a sleeping bag?" Tha'varr asked.

"Because I'd rather be cold than hear you complain. Besides, the four youngest should definitely get them." Beriven asserted.

"I'm not suffering just because you feel like being nice." Thug said.

"You won't be. The two without sleeping bags will be Berry and Mystery." Marius insisted.

Mystery raised an eyebrow at that, and looked over to Marius. Everyone else followed suit.

Marius smiled and said "Berry because he volunteered. Mystery because he's the leader. Leaders should lead by example."

Everyone laughed again, even Mystery, who very rarely laughed.

"I don't like them making a trip without one of us there." Beriven told Marius, as they walked by the fountain. They both stopped in eyesight of the Stump, their imaginations making the building quite a bit larger, and darker, than it actually looked.

"I don't like doing this without you. It won't go as well." Marius answered. "They'll be all right."

"You're right." Beriven agreed, hesitantly. His stomach quivered a little as they approached the door. "I should be worried about us."

Beriven knocked on the door, tentatively. It made only the quietest of thuds, as the surprisingly wet wood seemed to muffle the blow.

"You need to knock louder." Marius said, and raised his hand to bash on the door, stopping when the knob turned on its own and the door swung open.

A large man, so large that his arms alone were bigger than each of the children, stepped into the short doorframe. It barely fit him.

He scowled in the sunlight, looking around with squinty eyes.

It wasn't until he looked around again, that Beriven said anything. "Uh, hi."

The large man looked surprised, as he cast his eyes almost to his own belly, to look at the two orphans near his feet.

"We're here to see the cook." Marius said.

"He ain't in need of extra hands." The big man said, and moved to shut the door.

"We're here on business. We need him to write us a list for a delivery." Beriven said, stepping forward so that the big man couldn't shut the door.

"What could he want with a couple'a orphans?" The big man asked, closing the door slowly. He looked ready to simply push Beriven out of the doorway.

"Can orphans read, dummy?" Marius asked, stepping up next to Beriven. "We're supposed to bring him some supplies. Stuff he can't find otherwise. Even some off-planet goods."

The big man stared down at them for too long. Both boys were afraid he was just going to hit them after he worked up the nerve. Instead, he asked "What's the cook's name? You should know that, if you're doing business with him."

Beriven hesitated, but Marius insisted "No we shouldn't."

The big man smiled, and stepped aside for them. "Even the boss doesn't know his name. Cook's in the back, behind the bar. Don't dawdle."

The boys swallowed their glee, and avoided looking at each other as they passed by the big man.

"How did you know that?" Beriven asked Marius, whispering into his ear as soon as they stepped inside.

"I didn't. I just assumed that it would sound normal if he hadn't bothered to tell us his name." Marius admitted, with a shrug.

The Stump was a world apart from what it looked like on the outside. The rustic, moulding wood covered walls made of a sleek grey metal, littered with strange pieces of art. The tables looked almost elegant, and the cups were made of glass, rather than the sturdy ceramic that they had seen almost everywhere else. Everywhere, the busy servants seemed to outnumber the patrons, who stayed in the furthest fringes of the room, talking to each other too quietly to hear.

"Wow." Marius said.

"Yeah." Beriven agreed, stunned by the wealth he looked at.

"No, over there." Marius said. His hand pointed at a small man, only slightly taller than they were, who sat at a corner table. He was holding a cup in both hands, and looked to be deep in thought.

Beriven looked over at him for a long moment, and said "The boss."

"That disguise is nearly perfect. Small, inconspicuous, plain looking. He's dressed like a vagabond, except that he's clean and neat. He doesn't quite blend in, but he doesn't look important right away, so you overlook him."

"He's clever, to do that." Beriven said. "He's powerful and invisible."

Marius understood something else from it, and though the lesson took years to form in his heart, it was something that would never leave him. The true nature of a person was revealed by how they treated meekness, rather than strength. That, he would come to understand, was why this mob boss had made this place so opulent, and presented himself so humbly.

They stepped past the bar, only saying 'we're here to see the cook' when the bartender raised an eyebrow in question.

Through it all, the small man in the corner watched the boys carefully.

The kitchen was rich with smells that made the boys' mouths water. Young boys, and orphans, the temptations that a professional cook made them forget their mission for a few moments.

They were interrupted from their aroma induced stupor by a booming voice, which despite coming from right behind them, likely could be heard by everyone in the kitchen. "How the hell did you two punks get in here?"

The boys jumped, startled. Marius actually stumbled backwards, and Beriven clutched a counter to steady himself. "You scared us!" Beriven accused.

"I'll chop you up and serve you as a delicacy to the Hutts if you don't tell me what you're doing here." The man said, and both boys immediately understood that they were talking to the man they wanted to.

The cook was almost as large as the bouncer at the front door, and his voice sounded like he had swallowed a megaphone. His neck, which was a bit wider than his head, seemed to confirm that.

"We'd like to propose something, sir." Marius began, stepping up beside Beriven. "Do you know about the grocer who just went out of business?"

"Forget it, kids. I know where this is heading. But if I tell you to bring me Thamsan wine, you'll bring me turnips and still insist I pay you." The cook said, dismissively.

"That's why you write us a list." Beriven insisted, reaching into his pockets and taking out some paper, and one of his pens. "You write two copies, and can keep the money if we don't bring enough of what you want."

The cook paused, in thought, and the boys knew they had him.

"You can read, huh?" The cook said. "Why aren't you at home, if you know that much?"

"We're orphans. We don't have a home that we don't make for ourselves." Marius said. It was a line the cook seemed to smile at, though the boys didn't notice. "Since this grocer just went under, you can get your hands on the best stuff before it gets looted."

"Hmm..." The cook said. "What are you going to do if they don't have some of the items I put on this list?"

"Find the most expensive thing like it, and put it on the cart instead." Beriven replied instantly. The cook nodded at that.

"And if you don't know what something is?" The cook asked.

"We're going to make sure we know everything on the list before we leave." Beriven said.

"What makes you think you can get this stuff here without getting mugged?"

"Some of the boss' people are out looking for the guys who own the grocer." Marius explained. "They said it's all right."

The cook's eyebrows raised in surprise. He paused to think, for a long moment, before grinning at the kids. "Sounds like you kids have a good system going. How many other people have you offered this deal to?"

"No one, yet." Beriven replied.

"All right. I'll write up a list, and then we can haggle on a price." The cook said, taking Beriven's pen and making a few quick notes. Every few moments, he would glance around his kitchen, as if looking for something that ought to be there.

"Thamsan wine, Nintuk steak, Bactan berries, and as many Minorsians as you can get." The cook said to himself. He turned to the boys, and handed them one of the two pieces of paper. "I have some items I definitely want, and some general things I want you to keep an eye out for. If you find them, throw them in with the rest. If not, well, I won't be fussed. You'll get half of our price again if you can find Itamian vinegar, but that stuff's hard to find unless you're sitting on the big black throne."

"Here's your list. I want to see every item on that list, or a reasonable substitute, or you won't get a thing." The cook warned, with a raised finger.

Marius began scanning through the list, checking off each item against his memory. "What's a Minorsian?"

The cook picked up a bright orange fruit from the counter, and handed it to Marius. "That'a a Minorsian. If you can find everything on this list, I'm willing to make you a dessert with it. If you have a few friends you want to share it with, I'm willing to make a little more. But only if you find everything."

"Including the Itamian vinegar?" Beriven asked warily.

"Heh. Sharp kids." The cook said. "Not that. But everything else, without substitutes." He reached into a pocket, a little distracted. "I'll pay you six Ducats for the whole cart. Another three if you find the vinegar."

"What?" Beriven asked incredulously. "I could sell the Minorsians for twice that!"

"To who? And how long do you think you have before everyone in the city is looting that place?" The cook asked, slyly.

"That works against you. The sooner we go and do it, the more likely you are to get what you want. Minorsian sorbet isn't that good an incentive." Marius replied.

The cook stared at Marius for a long moment, the boys afraid that he was going to explode in anger, but when the cook did explode, it was in gales of laughter.

"Oh, you kids! If all those orphans are like you, we're all screwed in less than a decade." The cook exclaimed, grabbing the counter to support his own heaving laughter.

The boys smiled, and laughed at a little as well.

"We'll do it for ten, and enough sorbet for eight kids." Marius said, as soon as the Cook caught his breath.

"Eight ducats, and the sorbet. The other two will be if you get everything."

"And another five if we find the vinegar?" Beriven asked.

"Agreed." The cook exclaimed. He spat into his palm and held it forward to the boys.

Beriven, who had seen this done before, spat into his own palm and shook his hand. Marius followed suit after a moment.

"Spitting for a cook is a serious thing, you know." The cook said, pointing to the kitchen behind him. "So you had better live up to your end of the bargain."

"Making promises is a serious thing for an orphan." Marius said. "We'll live up to our bargain."

"You can use the back door when you come by. Knock three times, and tell whoever answers that you have a delivery for the cook." The Cook said, pointing to a door at the far end of the room.

The boys smiled, and said "We'll be back."

Glee barely held in check, they scampered out the back and into the street.

"Exactly what we needed, Merry!" Beriven exclaimed, as they walked past the fountain. "Eight ducats, so the stories match up."

"We'd better get on this delivery. The cook may not be too dangerous by himself, but we both know who he works for now." Marius replied.

"Right. I think we're going to need the cart to make this in one trip. We might loose a cart full of food to this, but we need to do it right away. Where do you think the others are right now?"

Marius glanced up at the sun, staring at it for a moment too long. "Are you okay, Merry?" Berry asked.

"Did you know you can tell the time by where the sun is?" Marius asked.

"No, and how does that help us?"

"It doesn't. It's just something I think I should learn."

"Learn later." Beriven said, a little peeved. "Do you have an idea?"

"Yeah. I think they're just unloading a cart right now. You should take the list, and go to the grocer. Start finding the items, and I'll bring Thug and Anita as quickly as I can." Marius suggested.

"What about the others?"

"They can take an inventory of what we have, and get us on track for what we need next. They should also get some rest. I don't think we're going to be able to sleep tonight."

"Why is that?"

"Because word's starting to get around about all this free food. Even the cook had already heard about this. How much longer before there's too many people around for us to take anything?" Marius asked.

"But it's dangerous at night." Beriven replied.

"The most dangerous thing out there are the Boss' thugs. And they won't touch us now." Marius answered. "See if you can find that vinegar."

"I will. Do you really think tonight will be safe?"

"Safer than any other night. And quite a lot safer than tomorrow." Marius answered, shouting the last few words as he started running down the street. Beriven stared after him for a moment, checked his pockets instinctively to make sure the list was still there, and ran towards the grocer.

Beriven ran as hard as he could, pummeling his legs recklessly against the street as he ran to the grocer. Marius seemed certain that this was the only day they could count on a near monopoly, and having too many people around would make it too dangerous to have risk his friends. He might chance it, he knew, if he were alone.

While his body propelled him onward, his mind was busy scouting ahead, searching through everything he remembered for the items on that list. The Minorsians were with the other fruit, and there were bags full of the things. He hadn't tried one yet, but he meant to.

Some of the items were going to be easy to look for. Meats could only be kept under special conditions, under ice and far away from other things. If he couldn't find the specific ones there, he wasn't going to find them, and could scratch them off the list.

The hard items were going to be the couple of grains that the cook had mentioned. Tharman Barley could be with the packaged grains, or it could be somewhere else entirely. It's exactly where he should start looking, if he was going to have everything before his friends showed up.

It was odd, he found, to think that way. That group of misfits, he did think of them as friends. He worried for them, the way he worried about himself.

Mystery was right. This could be what family feels like.

A few more blocks brought him to the small building that they managed to sneak into the grocer from. A small hole in the basement, not nearly large enough for an adult, and he was back inside this treasure trove of food.

He stopped suddenly, hid, and held his breath when he heard voices.

It wasn't that he heard people. Even when they first found the place, and gorged themselves until they were sick, there were other people around. This time, though, he heard whispered voices belonging to people who didn't want to be noticed.

"Look, we're dead if we stay. We've already hid the valuable stuff in the office, and we have enough money in the safe to charter a ship off planet. Let's just go already. We don't need to wait for Montomery." One person said, quickly. He was carrying a small bag, though it dug deeply into his shoulder, and both his hands were supporting it.

"Yes we do." The other replied, just as quietly. "What are you carrying in that, anyway?"

"Thamsan wine. Montomery wants us to keep it away from the looters. He thinks we can fleece the stuff for a fortune on Anaxes."

"Is that where we're headed?"

"I don't know. Why do we need Montomery, anyway?"

"Because I don't know the safe combination. I'm not leaving without a cut of that money."

"Good point. Can I just store the stuff inside the office?"

"Not a problem." The other man replied, and they both turned away and headed down another corridor. Beriven followed behind them, long enough for his own footsteps to drown in the ambient noise.

He rounded the corner and watched the two men step in front of a small door. One of the men fished out a key from his jacket pocket, and open a heavy pad lock on the outside of the door. They both stepped inside, and Beriven waited, holding his breath.

The seconds stretched on, and Beriven found it hard to sit still and wait. It was harder still to keep himself from peeking around the corner to stare inside, and watch what the men were doing.

Beriven held his breath as he heard the shuffling of feet in the hallway again. A quick, sharp click could be heard when the footsteps stopped, and then the two men stomped down the hallway.

Beriven waited a few more heartbeats after he stopped hearing their steps, and then stepped quickly to the door.

The pad lock looked heavy, the latches too secure for a child's mischief. He stared at the door in defiance, staring as if sheer determination could somehow do what reason could not.

His determined staring fruitless, Beriven kicked the door in irritation, and stuck his hands in his pockets dejectedly.

There was a trick Beriven had learned, over the few years of his life, that helped him out of tricky situations like this. He would sit down, close his eyes, and think really hard about what he wanted to do. If he focused, he found that he could look, somehow, and find a solution.

He had no way to explain how this worked, and if he tried to explain it to anyone they'd lock him away, but it worked every time he tried.

He sat down in front of the door, closed his eyes, and thought hard about the lock on the door.

In his mind, he saw a hundred possibilities flash by, all vanishing as quickly as they came. He saw himself picking the lock, bashing the door down, even finding power tools to break through the door with a really big hammer.

He saw himself, in a thought that lingered, not getting through the door but gazing into each hallway.

'Of course' Beriven thought to himself. 'I don't want to open the lock. I want in the room.'

He glanced along the hallway, looking for another door. He chose the nearest and stepped inside, grinning to himself when he found an open window at the end of the room.

He opened it carefully and glanced to his left, grinning with satisfaction when he spotted a window just to his left, where the locked office should be.

"Score one for Beriven Vaime." Beriven said to himself, as he pulled himself onto the railing. It was too far to jump, but Beriven was sure he could cling to the grooves in the wall long enough to shuffle across.

The wall had grooves and holes enough that a child, used to climbing nothing more difficult than a tree, could confidently make their way across. To Beriven, it was only a little more difficult than walking.

He pulled himself through the window, and climbed into the office. He scrambled quickly through the open sacs haphazardly piled into the corners of the room, until he found a few round bottles of what looked to be the Thamsan wine.

He put a few bottles into a small bag, knowing he could hardly carry any more than that, and dragged it to the window.

Below, he caught sight of Anita, who carefully scanned the street before beckoning towards a shadowy corner.

Thug and Marius appeared from it, guiding the empty cart between them.

Beriven put his lips together and whistled, trying for a bird-like chirp.

Marius turned to Thug, and in a loud voice, said "That's an ugly bird, making that awful noise."

"I've never heard a bird like that before." Thug agreed.

"I think it's a Berry bird." Marius suggested.

"Is it edible?" Thug asked, looking up at Beriven.

"No." Marius said. "It'd make you throw up."

Beriven pointed to the balcony directly below him, sharply. The three children below nodded, and disappeared through the doors.

It took a few minutes, but Marius and Thug appeared on the balcony directly below, with a large mattress between them.

Marius made a gesture with his hand, holding up a single finger, and them miming letting go of a bottle. Beriven nodded, and held a bottle over the balcony.

They adjusted the mattress, and after Thug gave a thumbs-up, Beriven dropped the bottle.

The wine hit the mattress and bounced once, softly. Marius caught it before the bottle could bounce a second time. The children cheered softly, and Anita took the bottle and put it into another small bag.

Beriven repeated the step with another four bottles, careful to make sure the drops were as clean as he could make them. After the fifth, he climbed over the edge and fell down, laughing as he bounced.

"Five bottles and a big berry!" Thursten said, laughing.

"We'd better load the rest of the cart. We need to get back to the Stump." Beriven said.

"Why?" Marius asked.

"Because I found the guys that we're supposed to keep an eye out for. They'll be back in the room I just came out of." Beriven explained.

"Right." Marius agreed. "But should we draw too much attention to ourselves?"

"We won't. The cook's gonna take all the credit for it."

"Good point."

They heard footsteps, loud and heavy, coming towards the door.

"Anita, act cute and scared. Say you just wanted a place to be warm. Everyone else, grab the bottles and hide!" Marius whispered harshly. The three boys grabbed the bottles and dashed into obscured corners of the room. Anita dragged the mattress into the middle of the room and shut the balcony door, before standing as far away from the door as possible.

Two men walked inside, looking distressed.

"You! What are you doing here?" One of them asked Anita.

Anita tried to press herself further back into the wall, and shook her head.

"I told you that you're ugly." The shorter one said to his companion. "Sorry, girl. But did you hear anyone come through recently?"

A third man stepped inside, a slightly pudgy man with an air of authority. "How long ago could they have done this?" He asked the other two.

"Minutes. They might be in the building still."

"They did." Anita admitted, still shaking. "A couple of men climbed down here, and they told me to keep quiet or they'd hurt me."

She sniffled once, still pressed against the wall.

"Did they say anything else." The shorter man asked, trying to sound kind.

"They said something about being back by 9:00" She said, hesitating. "They said something about a torch to cut things with. I don't know how you'd cut things with a torch, though."

"Should we wait for them?" The big man asked, cracking his knuckles.

"How many men?" The pudgy man asked Anita.

"Just two. I'm sorry if I did anything wrong!" Anita said, hysterically.

The pudgy man smacked the big man across the back of the head. "Scaring little girls." He said scathingly. But he chuckled to himself, as if he found the thought amusing. "Guess we wait for them. Take these guys out and take our cut when Montomery finally shows up.

The three of them left without saying anything else. Anita curled up into a ball and sobbed, quietly, as the footsteps faded. As the grew quieter, she held out her hand in a fist, sticking a thumb straight up.

Marius climbed out of his hiding place, a grin on his face. "Wow."

"I'm never going to believe your crying again." Beriven added.

Thug laughed, holding a hand across his face to cover some of the sound. Anita stood up and curtsied as best she could, and the boys clapped quietly.

"If we're quick, we can tell the Cook before sunset." Beriven said, as he stepped out the door and looked out the hall. "Let's hide the wine here until the cart's full, and go get the rest."

It was a precarious half-hour, and the children moved anxiously as they checked off the items on the list. The cook had neglected to put any volume requests on his list, which lead Marius to insist on filling the cart as well as they could.

"He didn't say how many. That means if we only bring him one, he still has to live up to his end of the bargain." Thug insisted.

"We also agreed on getting a full cart." Marius retorted, pointing to the cart now half filled with foodstuff. "That means unless we only find one of something, we need to take as much of it as we can."

"We can't take chances, Thug. We're not going to get to do this over." Beriven added.

The rest of the cart filled quickly, and they hurried their way out the front doors and to the stump.

They knocked on the back door, three times, and waited until someone opened it.

To their surprise, it was the cook himself who opened the door, drowning the doorway almost as effectively as the door had. "Ah, boys! I hope you got what I wanted."

"Everything except the Vinegar, and we looked all over the place for it." Beriven answered with a sigh. "We even found the Thamsan wine!"

Beriven said it innocently enough, but watched the Cook carefully as he spoke. The cook's eyes widened for a few moments, and even after he caught himself, he still wrung his hands in excitement.

"I heard you can make a fortune for it on Anaxes." Beriven added. "Why didn't you tell us how seriously you wanted it?"

Marius stepped up, and added "Did you just throw it on the list to make sure you wouldn't have to pay us the full price? You didn't expect us to find it?"

The cook threw up his hands in mock surrender. "Boys, I added it because I was hoping you'd find it. Thamsan wine doesn't have a proper flavour by itself, but heat it with something and it becomes a whole different taste. I have half a hundred recipies that demand the stuff. It only sells for a little more than pittance here, because hardly anyone figured out what to do with it. I can't say much about Anaxes, but if I could go off-world, would I still be here?"

"We'll accept that." Beriven said. "But I should tell you about the way we found the wine." He then explained about the men who had locked up the office, and how they were hiding money in the safe. He also explained about the thugs they had run into earlier in the day, and what they had asked for.

"Well, boys, you've just done the Boss a favor, which may be worth more to you than the ten ducats you're getting." The cook said, eyeing the cart. "Good thing I just finished that sorbet, too." He added, more to himself than the children.

"So it's acceptable?"

"It's everything I hoped for. Pity about the vinegar, but the offer still stands, if you find it. Five ducats a bottle." The cook offered. He handed the boys a small collection of coins, and a large jug that felt cold to the hands. He carefully placed a few spoons on the top, and added "You'll get sick if you eat it with your hands."

The boys nodded. Beriven hefted the sorbet, and said "Thanks, sir. We really appreciate you taking a chance on us."

"Yeah. You made our month." Marius added.

The boys turned to leave, turning back in surprise as they heard the cook ask "What are you going to do with that money?"

The boys looked carefully at the cook, who waved his hands sheepishly, and added "not that it's any of my business."

"Sleeping bags." Marius said, after a moment.

"Eight of them. Being cold all the time sucks." Beriven added.

"Eight? There's more of you?"

The boys looked at each other sharply, their minds suddenly whirling. Berry made an apologetic gesture, throwing his hands in the air and shaking his head. Marius, after a few more breaths, simply shrugged.

"We're looking out for a few people." Beriven said carefully.

The cook looked stunned for a moment, and the boys looked at each other again, worried. It was a relief for them, when the cook spoke next.

"Eight, for every bottle of vinegar you find." He said, gruffly, and shut the door in their faces.

The cook was startled when behind him, just as he shut the door, he saw a small man leaning against a doorway behind him. The small, innocuous looking man barely reached his rib cage, was hardly larger than the two boys who had just left.

His arms crossed, the small man asked "Were those the children you hired to steal you a cart-full of groceries?"

"Yeah. How'd you hear about it so fast?"

"I heard about their offer before they made it. About four hours ago, my boys accosted the kids stealing food from the grocer. They fast-talked my hired hands by telling them they were bringing it to you." The small man said, a chuckle in his voice.

"Now, a coward would run. An idiot would do nothing. But it seems at least one of these kids has a head on his shoulders, because the next thing he did was come to you and make it true." The man explained. "They told my boys they were doing it for a ducat a piece. How much did you agree on as a minimum?"

"Eight." The cook answered, guardedly.

"Which means there's eight kids in this little band of theirs. Clever." The small man reflected.

"Oh, they said they ran into the guys you're looking for."

"Did they?"

"Said they stashed some stuff in a small office on the third floor. The boys think they'll still be there around 9:00. Added that they were waiting on someone called Montomery."

"They could be waiting a while. I already have Montomery. But it seems that ducat my thugs paid the boy to keep an eye out was well spent." The Boss said.

"Eleven ducats in one day? That's a fairly good honest day's work." The cook said. "My help might start getting ideas."

"It seems I need to start giving my orphan problem a little more thought, and soon." the small man mused.

"What're you planning? You're not going to hurt those kids, are you?" The cook asked, sharply.

"Not yet. And I'd rather not. But if I have hungry orphans stealing from shops and mugging travelers, it's bad enough. If they're organized, that's a problem in a different league. I need these brats off the streets, one way or another." The small man said.

"You're really going to kill off a whole city's worth of orphans?" The cook asked, incredulously.

"Of course not. What kind of sick bastard do you think I am?" the small man asked, irritated. "I'm going to either make use of them, or encourage them to find some other place to live. I just wonder how I'm going to fit this clever little group into it." The small man said, as he pushed off the wall and walked back down the hall. The cook followed, a few steps behind.

"I'd hate to get them killed just because I involved them in your world, boss." The cook insisted.

"Don't you get it?" The boss interrupted, with a scathing inquiry. "You didn't involve them at all. They involved you."


	4. Chapter 3, The First Challenges

The packaging was barely off the new sleeping bags before Marius pointed out a reality that no one wanted to consider.

"We need to figure out a way to keep food coming in." he told Beriven, quietly, as they settled Thema into her bed. They still hadn't found pillows, but had improvised a few small piles of clothes in a warmer section of the warehouse.

"Yeah. But how?" Beriven asked, with a shrug. "It's a huge change for all of us that we have what we do now."

"I know, but since we're going to be safe, fed, and warm for a little while, it's the best time for us to try and make it last. The food isn't going to last more than a few months, and we spent most of the money on the sleeping bags." Marius explained, gesturing to the sleeping forms of the other members of their group.

Marius had volunteered to go without a sleeping bag, since the eleven ducats they had earned yesterday left them one bag short, only to find that the group refused to let him. Beriven, Thug and Anita had spent nearly an hour fighting with him about who should go without, and it was decided that the four of them would do it in shifts.

"How much money do you think it would take to keep us fed? The bare basics, only bread, water and whatever else we can scrounge up cheap." Marius asked.

"We could probably do it with two Ducats a week. So a quarter-ducat per person."

"That has potential." Marius said. "We should do more if we can."

"Yeah. A half-ducat per person would be enough for good food, and the occasional treat." Beriven agreed.

"And a bit extra so we can buy some stuff. Teeth-cleaners, soap, clothes when we can, and a vapor collector." Marius added. "For the occasional bath."

"Why can't we just steal it?" Beriven asked.

"Because stealing isn't a solution. Sooner or later, we'll step on toes that we can't handle. We'll do it if we have to, but we gotta stay safe." Marius said.

"How else are we gonna get money? No one hires orphans." Beriven said.

"I don't know. But unless we figure it out, we're going to find ourselves hungry again." Marius added.

"What about the cook? We'd cover our needs and then some if we found a bottle of that vinegar." Beriven asked.

"Bad idea. The grocer's a no-go right now. Too many people, it's not safe for us anymore." Marius replied.

"So we need to figure out what kids can do that adults can't, and then find someone willing to pay for it." Beriven asserted.

"Yeah. I just can't think of anything." Marius admitted.

"Neither can I. But is there anything adults don't like to do that they can pay kids to do instead?" Beriven asked.

"Not everyone wants to make kids work. You guys may not get this, but adults kinda feel weird about making kids work. They keep saying we should be out having fun right now." Marius explained. "I was looking for something like this before I found you guys. All the adults kept saying the same thing."

"That's stupid. They hate having orphans on the street, but don't give us an out." Beriven said irritably. "It's like complaining about a hurt finger, and then punching a wall."

"Exactly. But what are we going to do about this?" Beriven asked.

"I think I just came up with an idea." Marius exclaimed, excitedly. Beriven huddled close, and the two of them schemed until, sleeping bag forgotten, both of talked until their eyes refused to open, and the fell asleep in the corner.

* * *

"Where are we going?" Anita asked, as Beriven lead her to a small store.

"You need to pick out some soap." Beriven said, handing her the last of their money. "Find something that smells nice. We can't afford shampoo, so be careful about what you buy."

"But why?" Anita asked.

"We'll show you soon. Marius will have a place picked out, and we're finding the nicest, cleanest clothes we can find." Beriven explained.

"But why am I doing all this?" Anita asked, raising her voice a little.

Beriven sighed, and said "Because we're finding work."

"Work? Why? We have lots of food, and we're warmer than we've ever been!" Anita exclaimed.

"Because that food won't last more than a month. We need to find a way to earn money, or we're going to go hungry again." Beriven replied.

"Oh. But why do I have to work?"

"It's not going to be you, necessarily. But Marius needs to know if we can get work this way, and thinks we have the best shot if you're there."

"Why is that?"

"He said it's because you cry really well." Beriven admitted.

"Berry!" Anita exclaimed, indignant. She struggled to keep a scowl on her face for a few moments, but Beriven's smile made her grin.

"You really think I cried well?" Anita asked.

"The best. You deserve a medal." Beriven insisted.

"Soap?" Anita asked, holding the ducat in her hand and opening the door to the store.

"Yeah. A couple of bars, if you can buy it. We need to be clean if we're going to ask someone for work." Beriven said. "I'll be just outside."

Anita stepped inside, and Beriven leaned against the wall outside. When she came back out again, quite a bit longer than Beriven would have liked, she handed him a small package and the money back.

"Is that soap?"

"Yep. Not the prettiest smelling, but we wanted soap. The lady at the counter said that it all works for washing dirt, and that you pay more for what it smells like."

Beriven quickly counted what she handed back, and asked "How did you buy it? This is all the money I gave you!"

"Easy. I just told her what I was trying to do. She said 'oh, what a dear,' cried a little, and gave me something that she said would 'do the trick'. Are all adults that weird?"

Beriven shrugged, and they started walking back to the warehouse.

"So she actually gave you something? You know begging doesn't work. Lots of us have tried it, and most end up starving, or thieving. Did you ask in some special way? Did you cry?" Beriven asked, all in a rush.

"No, not at all. I asked her about soap, and she asked me why. I told her that I was looking to find work, and she started crying."

"You told her about our plan?" Beriven asked.

"Yeah. Did I do something wrong?" Anita asked in response, suddenly worried.

"Like Merry keeps saying, 'I don't know yet'. But you just told her about our plan, and she stared crying and gave you some soap for free?"

"Pretty much. Big of her, you know?" Anita said whistfully, hefting the other bar of soap in her hand.

"Yeah. But why did that work so well, when begging doesn't? What's so different about it?"

"I dunno." Anita said with a shrug.

"Weird. Let's get back home, and hopefully, Merry will have found a place to try to find a job at."

"Do you think this could work? I mean, if there were lots of work for kids to do, then we wouldn't be on the streets, would we?" Anita asked.

"I think this will. I don't know why, but things just feel like they'll work out. Like we're charmed, in a way. It's felt like that ever since we met Merry."

"Actually, Berry, it's felt that way since we met you." Anita admitted, and Beriven felt his face go a little red.

* * *

"She got it for free?" Marius asked, incredulously.

"Yep. Didn't have to cry or nothing." Beriven asserted, with a grin.

"Why?" Marius asked. "Hardly anyone just gives things away!"

"All she did was explain your plan." Beriven admitted.

"And that's why she helped? Why would you help someone who obviously doesn't need it? Help someone who has money? Adults make no sense at all!" Marius exclaimed.

"Who cares? All it means is we're on to something." Beriven noted.

"You're right. But we need to figure out if it's because of the story, or if it's because of the plan." Marius insisted.

"What's the difference?" Mystery asked, sitting down next to Beriven.

"If it's the story, we can just make things up and tell them to the adults. It just becomes a con we can use." Beriven explained.

"If it's the plan, though, it's a whole different story. It means we can't use it as an end, but we might be able to depend on people to help us, if we look like we're helping ourselves." Marius added.

"It's the plan, obviously." Mystery asserted, quietly.

Both Marius and Beriven stared at Mystery, stunned.

"People are generally pretty nice." Mystery said, "They smile and wave, are pretty kind. But they like to feel like their little bit of kindness goes a long way. You know, like they bought something with their money. That plan meant that the woman at the shop could buy Anita a job with just a couple bars of soap. They feel like their money went somewhere."

Beriven grinned at Mystery, and punched him in the arm affectionately. "That's why you're the leader."

"You two are the heart," Mystery pointed at Beriven, "and the soul," he then pointed at Marius, "of this group. I don't know what it is about you two, but it's huge. It seems like something's swirling around you, and everything seems to get pulled into it." Mystery finished, with an embarrassed shrug.

"So as long as we have a plan, we might be able to find people willing to help out." Marius summarized, quietly. "That has a lot of potential.

"It does. It means that if we have a plan, we can find people who will help us make it succeed." Beriven agreed. "So, who do you want to try first?"

"You mean when we ask someone for a job? I've narrowed it down to a few people, but I'm not sure who to start with." Marius admitted.

"Who's on the list?" Beriven asked, and he and Mystery leaned close.

"I have eight choices. The guy who owns the cafe at the northern outskirts of town has had a help wanted sign on his door for almost a month. I was thinking of either Bug or Thema, since the owner is kinda short and closes shop at three." Marius explained.

"Why Bug or Thema? Why not Anita, or even me?" Beriven asked.

"I wanted to avoid anyone intimidating. Anita's kinda tall, and for obvious reasons, Thug is out. As for you, I thought we should be finding the others work first." Marius admitted.

"Okay. What's next?"

"We can't do heavy labor, so there's a lot of work that we have to cut out. But I think we can do a few things well enough. There's the restaurant near that grocer, the one Thug stole the wagon wheel from. They might need a dishwasher, or even someone who can cut up or peel things. I think Thug, or even Mystery might be able to get a job there. If we choose that one, I thought we'd send Anita with Thug just to get them through the front door."

"I like it. Thug's big enough that he can handle the physical stuff." Beriven said. "How about Tha'varr, what kind of job could we find her?"

"I honestly don't know. Too many people hate aliens. I think we should hold off looking, because finding her work might be harder than actually getting jobs for everyone else." Marius said.

They both looked over to where Tha'varr was sleeping, still curled up into a ball to keep in the heat, despite the sleeping bag wrapped neatly around her.

"That's stupid. She speaks six languages! Someone has to need that." Beriven exclaimed.

"That's the angle I want to play up, but it's the kind of thing we'll need time for, and we're better off seeing if we can find work at all first." Marius insisted. Both boys looked dejected, and turned to Mystery, who nodded in agreement.

"Actually, we should look at people's skills. Things we can do that others might need. Like that you two can read." Mystery said, quietly.

"You're right. I should've gone about this more carefully." Marius agreed, leaning back. "I got excited."

"Let's run with the plan that we have, and see how it turns out. Nothing teaches like experience." Beriven said. "Just because it could have been better, doesn't make it bad."

"Agreed." Mystery said.

* * *

"Do you know that cafe on the outskirts, near the water port?" Marius asked Thema, after they had managed to dry some clothes. Bug was putting on a crisp looking work shirt that, while still two sizes too large, made him look more adorable than homeless. Thema's own clothes were similarly too large and too male to look like they belonged to her, but they were presentable.

"Wow, you guys don't even look like you belong here."

"This is how we're all going to look, if I have a say." Beriven asserted, fingering Marius's shirt collar. "Are you sure this is how they wear it?"

"No. But it makes the most sense." Marius admitted. "Besides, I'm not the one who's going to be working there. I just need to do some backup talking."

"So Bug or I will be the ones doing the work?" Thema asked, incredulously. "Why should we work if you're just going to be taking all the money?"

"Thema," Marius said, stepping close and deliberatley staring her in the eyes. "I promise we will discuss this tonight, if you or Bug manage to get the job. But just trust me, we won't force anything."

"Really?" Thema asked, with a hazy glint rising in her eyes. She turned her head away and wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Sorry, Merry."

"I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have let you worry alone." Merry said.

"That makes no sense!" Bug exclaimed, though his own voice quavered a little.

"Get going before we cry." Beriven said, pushing bug towards the warehouse doors. "And come back with work. We'll celebrate with Minorsan Sorbet and whatever else Tha'varr can come up with!"

Tha'varr gave Beriven a playful punch in the arm as they waved their friends goodbye. The three children waved back as they stepped out of the warehouse and into the street. Marius stepped forward to lead, and the other two fell into quiet step behind him, saying nothing as they walked along the streets.

"It's weird, being clean." Bug admitted.

"You forget how bad everything else really smells." Thema said, wrinkling her nose.

"If this sort of thing works, and we can all find work, do you know what I want to do next?" Marius asked, with a quiet quivering in his voice.

"What?" Bug asked, and Thema listened closely.

"Make sure we never smell like that again." Marius said.

The others didn't respond, but their pace quickened a little as they stepped into the main street.

The main street was also where the daily market was put on, where nearby farmers and far off traders would deal in the more exotic foods that the grocers of Tyrne couldn't keep stocked. It was always held twice a week.

The press of bodies worked to slow their progress, once or twice bringing the three children to a stop, as people shouted at each other. A few jugglers, all of whom likely benefitted from having four long arms, gathered such a crowd that the children were forced into the stalls on the other side of the road, in order to get around.

"Pretty girl! Would you like a necklace?" one merchant asked, jingling a few chains in his hand and leaning over the stall.

Thema looked around wildly, when she realised the merchant was looking straight at her. "Me?"

"Yes, of course! Is there any other pretty girl around?" The merchant asked. "Try these, silver mined and crafted straight from Courascent, only forty ducats apeice! It's barely the cost of the metal!"

Marius and Bug grabbed her by the arms and hauled her away.

"Why did he do that? He tried to sell me something!" Thema said, her eyes wide and her voice nearing a note of hysteria. Marius though, looking carefully, noticed the faint ghost of a smile on her lips as she spoke.

"Kinda dumb, to try to sell it to any of us. We don't have any money!" Bug exclaimed. "Guess he isn't too bright."

"No." Marius said, "It means we don't look like orphans."

The truth of that hit the children hard, and they paused in the street, eyes fixed on the stone street.

A man bumped into them, and apologized before walking away.

"That doesn't happen when we're dirty. No one apologizes." Thema said. "Merry, I don't want to be dirty anymore! I'm sick of being a dirty orphan!" Thema sobbed softly into her sleeve.

She looked at Marius for a moment, then at Bug, and cried harder. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean it like that. I've just been so happy lately, I don't want it to stop, and I don't want to be alone and cold and dirty anymore!"

Bug gave her a fierce hug, and said "You're not an orphan."

When Thema stared at him he explained "Orphans don't have family. You've got us." He gave her a fairly determined poke as he said this, his voice at once indignant and sympathetic.

Bug was startled to see Thema cry even harder at what he said, but Marius smiled and have him a short nod and an upturned thumb.

They marched on in an amicable silence, quietly humming or whistling into the street. The near mile they had to walk passed quickly, despite the relaxed pace they set. Before long, they rounded another street corner to find their destination, an unassuming little cafe that looked as if it had seen much better days.

"Do you think anyone's there?"

"The man who owns the place, his wife died a few months ago. He's had a hard time running the place by himself, and can't afford to pay another adult for work. That's where we come in, hopefully." Marius said, and started towards the door. Thema and Bug followed closely, torn between the need to keep up, and the urge to hide behind their friend.

Marius stopped in front of the door and checked the sign on the door. "This sign says open." He explained. "Even if you can't read, it's a good idea to memorize this word."

"Okay." Thema agreed.

"You should teach us to read, Merry." Bug said.

"Shush." Marius exclaimed, rounding on Bug. "Don't tell him you can't read, at least not until he hires you."

"Oh." Bug said, in apology.

Marius opened the door, and held it open for Bug and Thema, who shuffled inside hesitantly.

The man at the counter looked weary, as if he had been run into an exhaustion that no amount of sleep could fix. His eyes had deep bags under them, and were badly bloodshot. His clothes were threadbare, though clean and presentable. He looked thin, pale, and slightly malnourished.

"Pardon me, sir." Marius said, stepping forward. "We're here about finding work, if you have the time to hear us out."

"What do you kids want? You should be out playing or something." The man said, turning away slowly. He had a sunken, defeated expression that Marius recognized. It was an expression on many of the homeless, and more than a few of the oprhans. It was defeat, as if they were just waiting for their lives to go out.

Seizing on that understanding, Marius admitted "we're orphans, sir. We're trying to find a way to earn money."

"You're too clean to be orphans." The man insisted, but he sat up a little straighter.

"We had a recent spell of good luck." Thema said, stepping forward.

"But it can't last." Bug added, with a note of urgency.

The man nodded to himself.

"We're not asking for anything but a chance to make ourselves useful, sir." Marius explained.

The man leaned forward on the counter, and beckoned for the children to come closer. They gathered around on the other end of the counter, and quietly stared at him, waiting for the store owner to speak.

"What do you think I need done?"

Thema opened her mouth to speak, but Marius poked her quickly and stared up at the ceiling. After a few moments, he said "You need to free up your time a little, so that you can get more done."

"Exactly. Which means I need to cook food, prepare drinks, and serve customers. Do you think you kids can handle that?"

"They can." Marius asserted, confidently.

"So you're not offering yourself?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. Not yet, at least. I need to find more work for my friends." Marius said.

The man thought to himself for a moment, and Marius added "I brought these two because they're the friendliest people I know. They're also eager, which I don't see a lot out on the streets. If you give them a chance, they'll try their hardest to make it work."

"Can they read?" The man asked.

"Not yet." Thema admitted. Marius cringed as she spoke, but didn't respond.

"You're orphans, of course." The man said. "It's odd that you say 'not yet', rather than 'no'. Who's going to teach you?" The man asked, with a hint of grin on his face.

"I am." Marius said.

"How quickly can you teach them to read this?" The man asked, handing Marius one of his menus from the counter. The words were small, and the entire menu itself was surprisingly long.

"I can teach them to memorize this in a week. " Marius said. "What's a 'Kashnar Shock'?"

"So you can read." The man said, with a smile. "Tell you what, I'll try the two of them out tomorrow, and if I think they have potential, we'll talk about getting you to teach them the menu, and wages. But not until I see them work, you got that?"

Marius smiled, and held out his hand. "It's a deal."

The man shook his hand, and then extended it to Thema and Bug. "I'll see you two tomorrow. Nine in the morning, sharp. It wouldn't do to be late on your first day."

The three children refrained from cheering while they shook his hand. It was hard for them, though.

"Oh," the man added. "And you, the short one." The man said to Bug. "Your shirt's inside out."

The only slight drop from the elation the children felt, as they ran as fast as they could back home, came from Marius. He stopped his companions in front of the central fountain, and panting heavily, asked them a question.

"How will we know when it's nine o'clock?"

The laughter died on their faces just long enough for the clock tower near the fountain to start chiming.

"Ask a stupid question..." Marius muttered to himself, as Thema and Bug laughed at him.

* * *

There was no caution, or reservation as Tha'varr threw herself into their makeshift kitchen. They had a roasted duck, a dozen different types of pasteries, and served the entire sorbet for a single night.

"We don't have a place of honour for you to sit!" Beriven exclaimed, sorrowfully.

"We'd need a table for that, Berry." Thug said, as he handed Thema a heaping plate of food.

"Where did you get the dishes?" Marius asked.

"Found them in one of the warehouse boxes. It took all day to pry it open, and it's the only one we could manage." Beriven said, helping himself to a generous portion of the duck.

"As long as you didn't steal them. I don't want that kind of trouble on our heads." Marius insisted, standing at the end of the short line for Tha'varr's cooking.

"Where's the place of honour, then?" Anita asked.

"It's wherever Thema and Bug are sitting." Marius replied.

Anita stepped over into the small circle and sat down, offering to show Thema some more of the soap they had been given a few days ago. As the group grew larger, Marius helped Tha'varr put the pots of food back in the freezer.

"Will I ever have that?" She asked, pointing back at the group.

"What, the food? Not unless we hurry." Marius replied, with a smile.

"No. I just want to be accepted, at the market. Like they were today."

Marius paused for a long moment, forgetting the food in his hands. "No, I don't think you ever will. Not here, at least." He admitted.

Tha'varr sighed to herself, and turned away, fussing with the food.

"But you do have us. And if kids like us can like you, it just means that the people who don't are really, really stupid." Marius insisted.

Thema punched him, softly, and walked back to the group, not looking at him.

Marius scratched his head in confusion and followed her back, stealing an open spot next to Mystery, who was intently focused on getting the most from a leg of duck.

Beriven and Thug, having already devoured a plate of food each, spun to each other tales of what they'd do with the riches they were soon to acquire.

"I'll buy a bed! Not just this cocoon, but an actual bed that comes off the floor!" Thug said, whistfully. "Think of how good it will feel, to sleep on something soft. With a real pillow, and blankets."

"I was thinking about a warm coat. For winter. Something big and fluffy, that I can hide my fingers inside when they start to hurt." Beriven replied.

"Maybe we can even find our own place!" Thug said, excited.

"Maybe." Beriven agreed. "Hey, Thema! How much are you and Bug making?"

"We don't know yet!" Thema shouted back.

"What should we do with the money?" Thug asked, loud enough to be overheard.

Thema grew quiet suddenly, looking at her plate. Bug asked "Who's money, mine?" and everyone else began to take a great deal of interest in this conversation.

"Well, it is, isn't it? Thema and I will be working for it, so why should everyone else decide what to do with it?"

The group was tense and quiet, looking from Thurston to Bug.

Marius spoke first. "It looks like we have to talk about that."

"Yeah. I kinda wanted to wait a couple of days first." Beriven agreed.

"I didn't want to have it at all." Marius added. "Ah well."

Mystery gave a short wave, and the group gathered into a small circle. Their eyes were wary, keenly aware of the uncomfortable quiet.

"I didn't want to talk about this until Bug and Thema got paid for the first time, but we need to decide if we're sharing the money, or if we're keeping what we earn." Marius said. "I know Thema and Bug aren't going to be very keen about sharing what they spend all day earning."

"We didn't say that, Merry." Thema insisted.

"No, but you are. Let's face it, it's the same feeling that must keep adults from helping us out in the first place. We earn something, deserve something, and want to keep it. We're all going to feel that way, once we can find work." Marius said.

"But on the other hand, the whole idea of finding work was to keep us all fed, so that we didn't have to go back to being cold and hungry." Beriven replied.

"And to help everyone else find work, too." Marius added.

The others nodded, but didn't speak.

"Merry, I think we should all be clean." Thema said.

"I know, but we've gotta work this one out, too." Marius replied, quickly.

"But, I think being clean should be put up with food and warmth." Thema said.

Beriven turned to her, and asked "Does that mean you definitely want to pitch in for all of this? That you don't mind putting your money into helping us?"

"Of course not!" Thema exclaimed, and a few other voices joined in with her. "Why would we? There's no way we'd let everyone else starve when you've given us all this!" She gestured to the food in front of them. "We've eaten better in the last few weeks than we ever have!"

"You mean, you guys don't feel like you want to keep all your money?" Beriven asked, surprised.

"Well..." Thema began.

"Could we keep a little?" Bug blurted out, almost in a single word.

"It'd be nice to actually go into that market and buy something." Thema admitted.

"But only once in a while. And only if we're full." Bug insisted.

"And warm." Thema added.

"And clean." Bug said.

The others cheered in assent, and Tha'varr added "We all feel that way, you know."

Beriven hung his head, chin to his chest. Marius was busy staring at the floor for a long moment, before saying "I'm sorry."

"Me, too." Beriven added. "I thought if we found you guys work, that you'd want to go your own ways. That we wouldn't be together anymore. I didn't want that."

"No way! We don't abandon family!" Thema insisted.

Mystery stepped over to Beriven and hugged him, hard. Pulling away, he said "For a smart guy, you're pretty stupid."

Mystery didn't volunteer another word, and no one bothered to press him for an explanation. Instead, Tha'varr opened up the Minosan Sorbert, and the children ate and laughed until their stomachs hurt. They fell asleep in that small circle. The last to sleep was Marius, who had just enough presence of mind to keep a window open so they would wake up when the sun rose.


	5. Chapter 4, Looking Beyond

Despite Marius' earlier predictions, and exacerbated by Bug's suddenly voracious appetite, their boundless stash of food had vanished after a mere five weeks. Beriven and Thug, who had been chosen by lottery to make breakfast, were busy staring at an empty freezer as if they could make something appear inside.

"We're hooped, huh?" Thug said.

"Looks it." Beriven agreed.

They reported as much to the others, who responded as children tend to.

Childishly.

"What? No food? What about the Berries I saved in the back corner?" Anita asked.

"Sorry. I got hungry in the middle of the night." Bug admitted, sheepishly.

"Sorry? We're all going hungry now because you couldn't wait till morning. What are we gonna do now?" Anita asked.

"I say Bug buys breakfast, then we go grocery shopping." Thema said. Thug and Beriven both gave an enthusiastic shout of agreement, while Bug struggled to have his protests heard.

"You can take some money out of the food pot for it, Bug." Marius said, and Mystery nodded in agreement when Bug looked over to him. Bug's expression changed sharply, as a grin broke out on his face.

"What should I get?"

"Minced Pastries!" Tha'varr said, excitedly. A few more cheers of assent, and when a moment passed without protest, Bug nodded.

(A minced Pastry, for the record, is a sweet pastry of some kind, ripped up into small pieces and served on a bowl of thick whipped cream and fruit)

"I'll be back soon." He said, and taking two Ducats from the pot, ran out the door.

Marius waited until Bug was out of sight, before taking out some paper and their last pencil. "Top of the list," he mumbled to himself, and wrote 'pencils' on the top of the sheet.

"Thema?" Marius asked. "Could you go help Bug, in case it's too much for him to carry?"

Thema nodded, and jogged out the door after Bug.

"Two things, everyone. First, I want to throw a party for Thema and Bug. They started work a month ago, and besides, who hates a party?" Marius asked, looking around with a grin, as if expecting an answer to his query.

"Second, since we've found work for Thug, I figured we'd start brain-storming for Anita and Beriven. If anyone's spotted a good spot to ask, I'd like to hear it." Marius finished.

"How about that soap shoppe, the one with that nice lady?" Anita offered.

"You mean the one that gave you the soap? Are you sure it's a good idea?" Beriven asked.

"Well, I'll mention that she's found work for her friends. Say that they're shy, and needed someone to hold their hands for them. It can't hurt to ask." Marius replied. "I was also thinking of having both of you try at the space port. Beriven can read, and Anita's close enough that a bit of practice should get her by, so you can do some of their more complicated work."

"That's a good idea. Especially since the space port's so close." Beriven agreed. "But we might need to wait on this plan, Merry."

"Why?" Marius asked, confused.

"We don't have any more clean clothes for us. It's barely enough for Thug, Berry and Thema." Anita pointed out, and Marius' shoulders slumped.

The group looked a little dismayed by the news, and looked longingly into their coin pot. Untold riches now looked more like sparse change.

"The more we have, the more we want." Mystery said, and Marius nodded in agreement. Beriven raised an eyebrow, and the others stared, confused.

"So we'll do this." Mystery said, startling the group with his sudden decisiveness. "Berry and Thug will get the groceries after breakfast. Merry and Anita will ask around town for clothes. Ask about places that sell things cheap, and ask to see if places will offer discounts. Bug and Thema should take the day to rest and play, since they've been working. Tha'varr and I will ask around for people who have old clothes that they don't want."

Mystery finished speaking, and without another word, stood up and walked into the fridge, looking quite intent on something the others couldn't see. When he came back out, he was carrying a small portion of the Minorsan Sorbet.

"You pack-rat!" Thug exclaimed. "How'd you hide that?"

Mystery only winked at him, as he took out a spoon and sat down again.

* * *

Just after breakfast, Marius found a moment to talk to Mystery privately. In a whisper, he asked "should we really have Tha'varr out alone? You know how people feel about aliens."

Mystery smiled, and said "She won't be alone."

"I know, but still," Marius began, not able to articulate his thoughts.

Mystery smirked suddenly, and jabbed Marius in the ribs. "You like her."

"Do not!" Marius exclaimed.

"Just teasing." Mystery told him soothingly, though a raised eyebrow let Marius suspect that he wasn't being entirely truthful. "But we need to find a place where people accept her, if we're going to find her a job."

Marius inhaled sharply, and took a moment before he spoke again. "You're right. Just be careful."

"Find us some more clothes." Mystery said in response. "And a better way to clean them. Walking all the way to the river and rubbing them against rocks takes way too long."

* * *

"Hear ye! Hear ye!" Someone called, and Beriven turned to regard the crier.

The boy was hardly older than any of his friends, pale and peaky. Another orphan, poor and malnourished, trying desperately to find some way to stave off starvation.

"Civil war on Courascent. Find out who, and how they're doing it. Only a half-ducat tells the tale!" The boy shouted, straining his throat to be heard.

Beriven motioned for Thug to follow, and snuck close behind the boy as a tall man handed him a half-ducat.

"Six ships of the new Armada have just started a siege of the capital. The entire admiralty has joined the coup, lead by Therran Amar. The nearest army is over a week away, the capital's garrison and palace guard is badly outnumbered, and horribly outgunned. Iniquitus has an energy shield protecting the inner city, but no one knows how much longer it's gonna hold. It looks like a new lord on the Obsidian throne soon!"

The man waited for a moment longer, and then handed the boy another half-ducat. "Anything else?"

The boy smiled and nodded, and added "The army is marshaling, and the air force is sitting on their hands. Iniquitus ordered them to wait for the army before attacking. All off-world ship traffic has been grounded until the crisis is over."

The man nodded and walked away, leaving Beriven and Thug to drift back into the crowd.

* * *

Overlooking the market, on a small balcony, sat a single table with only one chair. That chair was occupied by a short, plain looking man in an unassuming brown robe. The plain looking man, quietly sipping a drink provided by the cafe below, watched the mass of humanity below with eyes that rarely blinked.

Only the keenly observant might notice that his gaze hadn't wavered from two boys buying groceries.

An irreverent stomping caused the plain man to look away, at a young boy easily as young as the others below.

"Your name, boy?" The man asked, quietly.

"Damos, sir." The boy replied, quickly. There was a note of irritation in his voice, as if he weren't here of his own volition.

"Do you recognize those two boys, down there? The ones near the Potamash stand." The man asked, pointing down the balcony.

"Yes, sir. Orphans, like me. They've had a string of luck lately." The boy replied, a distinct note of envy in his voice.

"Perhaps not luck, so much." The man murmured to himself. Speaking a little louder, he asked "Do you hate them for it?"

"No, sir." The boy answered quickly.

"Do you envy them?" The man asked.

"Of course. They look fed, and clean." The boy answered, his tone rising sharply. "Is there a point to this?"

The man smiled, and took another sip. He reached a hand into his pocket, idly, and took out a single Ducat. "Get yourself some lunch from downstairs. Tell them the guy upstairs recommended the roast."

The boy snatched at the ducat impatiently, almost lunging for it.

"Did you know they call themselves the lucky orphans?"

"Really? They'll fall apart as soon as they run out of money."

The man watched the boy's face carefully, smiling as if he saw exactly what he was expecting.

"Are you sure about that?" The man asked. "They actually found jobs, you know."

"What?" The boy asked, incredulously.

"I'm serious. Two of them work in this shop." The man noted. He waited for the surprise to fade, and the envy to creep into the boy's features, before he spoke again.

"They work tomorrow." The man said. He paused, for a long, pregnant moment, before reaching into his pocket and taking out another ducat. "I've kept you too long as it is. You'll see them tomorrow, if you want another shot at the roast. It's normally a little more than a ducat, but just say the guy upstairs said it's okay."

He stood up, and held out his hand. "Thanks for your time."

The boy shook it, looking confused.

* * *

Surprisingly, Beriven and Thug were the last group back, arriving just before the sun set. When they returned, Tha'varr gave them a scathing glare before unloading the food, quickly snatching a few items for dinner.

"She looks upset." Beriven noted.

"She wanted to make dinner an hour ago." Marius replied. "So did I, but we're used to being hungry. Being patient is a new thing for us."

Mystery beckoned Beriven into the small room they used for meetings, where most of the others had already assembled. Beriven and Thug sat down, while Marius stood by the door.

"I found a job for someone." Anita said, with a grin on her face.

"Really?" Beriven asked, with a rather bemused expression on his face.

"Yeah. You know the odd little place on the outskirts, the place that offers a free meal once a month? They're starting a discount place for used clothes, offering it out cheap. They have hordes of stuff that people have left out, gave away, or threw in the garbage."

"So you found clothes. You said you found a job." Beriven said.

"That's the neat part. They want someone there four days a week. They said they can't pay much, but I told them about what we're doing, and they said they're willing to give us free clothes if someone works there four days a week."

"How much is not very much?" Thug asked.

"three ducats every two weeks." Marius said, from the door.

"Another ducat and a half into the weekly pool, and our clothing problem is solved. Good find." Beriven said, congratulating Antia.

"Not necessarily" Marius said. "They might have a lot of clothes, but that doesn't mean they have the right types. We might have to look for certain things, especially nice clothes for certain jobs."

"True." Anita agreed. "Bug and Thema could use it soon."

"Who should take the job, then? It doesn't pay as much as the other jobs we've found, so whoever takes it won't have as much personal coin to play around with."

"I will." Beriven said. "Mystery isn't outgoing enough, Anita and Marius are our best job-finding team, and it's too far away to make Tha'varr walk alone."

"And everyone else has a job already." Thema said. She looked up with a wistful expression on her face, and said "That feels good."

"What does?" Thug asked.

"Saying that. We have jobs." Thema explained.

Thug agreed with a long grunt, and they turned back to Marius, who was staring into the distance as if his eyes could see something besides the concrete wall.

"What is it, Merry?" Anita asked, giving him a poke.

Marius ignored them all for a long moment, before his eyes focused on his surroundings and he turned his head to his friends. "I'm wondering why it all became so easy."

"What did?" Beriven asked.

"Getting jobs, money, food, everything we have now. For the first time since..." He stuttered suddenly, and stared at the floor. "Since I came here, I'm not hungry, I'm warm, I'm clean and I have friends."

"I'm just wondering why it's so easy." Marius finished.

The others looked down at the floor intently, unable to answer him.

It was Mystery who spoke first, saying "Anita, Thug, would you help Tha'varr with dinner?"

Anita looked at Mystery with a raised eyebrow, and asked "what are the rest of you up to?"

"Marius, Thema and Bug are going to find some cleaning stuff. Soap, a broom, even a mop. Beriven's going to help me sort out the freezer."

Satisfied, Anita and Thug left to the kitchen, while Marius took out a pencil and started writing a list. "We don't have a lot of money, so we should put the stuff we need most at the top." He said to Thema and Bug.

He gathered them close, and started explaining the letters he was writing. Mystery listened to him a few moments longer, then gestured for Beriven. Instead of the fridge, he lead Beriven into a small, empty closet. Dust laced the handle, and the door hinges were badly rusted. Mystery opened the door with a quiet yank, and stepped into the darkness.

"You wanted to warn me about something." Beriven said as he shut the door behind him. "Something about what Marius was going to say. You weren't very subtle about it, either."

"Have you figured out what Marius was going to ask?" Mystery asked, quietly.

"No. Which is what confuses me about being in a broom closet that hasn't been used since before we were born." Beriven said, with a hint of irritation in his voice.

"He's going to ask if we should start finding jobs for other orphans." Mystery said, with a note of certainty that left Beriven stunned. He clenched his fists, and took a step back towards the door, before stopping.

"How do you know?" Beriven asked, finally.

"Because he's that kind of person." Mystery answered, quickly and quietly.

"Why would he want to?"

"The scary thing is, Berry, why wouldn't you want to?" Mystery asked. "If someone offered you help, to get out of being a dirty, poor orphan, wouldn't you take it?"

"Charity is humiliating." Beriven answered with a note of disgust.

"It is." Mystery agreed. "You hear the rich, on the holo-feed, talk about giving back occasionally. Especially from Courascant. But giving back is what kids with parents do after they steal from a store."

"Right." Beriven agreed. "So why would Marius want to?"

"Because it isn't charity for him. He'll do it because he thinks he should. As if everyone deserves to be fed, clean, and warm." Mystery said.

"Wouldn't that be nice." Beriven said, rolling his eyes. "This sort of thing doesn't come cheap, and all these recent successes are starting to go to his head."

"Possibly." Mystery said, but his tone suggested he had held his own opinion close to his chest. "But what you need to decide, Berry, is if you're going to help him, or stop him."

"Stop him, obviously." Beriven insisted. "Why should we be helping all the sick, lonely orphans out there? No one else is, and trying to is just going to put us back on the streets. It will be worse now, that we remember being warm and full."

Mystery nodded, and slowly opened the door. He paused, and stared out into the light through the small gap he made in the doorway. "Is it just? To stuff your face when someone else starves?"

"Just?" Beriven asked, incredulity mixing quickly with rage. "Is anything just about our lives? Is it just that our parents are dead, or slaves? Is it just that we starve? What the hell does justice matter, when the world's like this?"

Mystery smiled sadly, and said "that's how you and Merry are different. You think the world's unjust, and think it ought to be. Merry thinks the world's unjust, and thinks he should be."

Mystery left Beriven standing in the closet, who used the darkness to hide the tears trickling down the face of a boy who, for some reason he couldn't explain to his own heart, felt betrayed.


	6. Interlude, Storytime

**This chapter is an interlude. It is not essential for either the plot, or the continuity of the story. It is, however, something the children experience and a part of what helps shape them in future chapters.**

**

* * *

**

"I can't sleep." Thema exclaimed, for the third time in half an hour. She flailed her arms a little, and threw off part of her sleeping bag, huffing in indignation.

"Stop interrupting those of us who can!" Beriven rasped, throwing his hands over his ears. He sat up, and glared over at her.

"Same to you." Tha'varr said after a low groan, and sighed in exasperation. "We've been trying to sleep for, what, ten hours now?"

"Forty minutes." Bug answered. "It says so on the clock."

"When did you learn to read a clock?" Beriven asked, forgetting his anger.

"Marius taught me yesterday." Bug answered.

Anita stood up, and stretched, saying "well, what are we going to do now?"

"We have to sleep!" Thema said plaintively. "Bug and I have work tomorrow."

"I could punch all of you, that would put you to sleep." Thug offered.

Most of the group laughed.

"Hey, where's Merry?" Tha'varr asked. Even in the low gloom of the night-lights, she could see that neither Marius, nor his bag, were there.

A few quick glances around the room confirmed that Marius wasn't with them. Anita stood up and opened a door, looking into the smaller room that was probably once used as an office. It was too small to use as a sleeping room, which is why it was rarely occupied.

"Ah, he's over here!" Anita said. She pointed inside, and the others climbed out of their beds to look inside.

Marius was curled up in his sleeping bag, the lights were on, and he had a book in his hands.

"Merry, what'cha doing?" Thema asked.

"Reading." Marius replied sardonically, holding the book up a bit.

Beriven read the title, 'Exiles of Tython,' but it didn't mean anything to him."

"Where's Tython?" Beriven asked.

"What's Tython?" Anita asked.

"Python?" Bug asked.

"No, Tython. I think it starts with a T." Thema said.

"Like title, or turtle." Bug exclaimed.

"Exactly." Marius said, pointing to bug, and smiling. "Tython is the name of a planet, far away from here."

"What's an exile?" Bug asked.

"You read that off the book?" Thema exclaimed.

"Yeah." Bug said, with a snicker.

"An exile is someone who's been sent away from a place." Marius said. "It's about someone who was sent away from Tython."

"Is it a true story?" Tha'varr asked.

"Sort of. It's based off someone's real adventures, but it's almost a thousand years old." Marius said.

"So it's been changed a few times." Beriven said.

"Of course. Real life is too boring to be made into a story." Marius agreed.

"So it's not boring." Anita said, settling down beside Marius.

"If it were, he wouldn't be reading it." Beriven noted.

Everyone turned their heads, suddenly, when Thug asked in a voice quivering with emotion. "Would you read it to us?"

"Thug?" Thema asked.

The others waited, as Thug took a few deep breaths. "It's the last thing I remember, about my parents. They used to read to me. In bed."

Every one of the children found something interesting on the floor to stare at.

"It is for me, too." Tha'varr said, after a moment. Her voice, not quite as strained as Thug's, still had a distinctive hitch where she struggled with surging emotions.

"I, uh..." Marius began, but Mystery sat down, and stared attentively in his direction. The others, seeing this, slowly followed suit, until they sat in a semicircle around him.

"As if I was going to say no." Marius said. He flipped back to the front of the book, and asked "It's not just one story. It's about a bunch of people who left Tython, after something called the Bogan wars."

"Bogan wars?" Thema asked.

"Part of this story says there's some mysterious power in the universe. And it has two sides, the Ashla and the Bogan. The Ashla is a kind power, and the Bogan is a hurtful one." Marius explained.

"What happened in the war?" Beriven asked.

"It doesn't say. It's just about some people who left. According to the book, hardly anyone stayed on Tython after that war."

"Oh." Beriven said, sadly.

"Just pick one at random, Merry." Bug said.

"Okay." Marius scanned the page for a moment, and then exclaimed with a start, pointing at one. "Tonight's story is called 'Pali Trivish and Mandalore.' He flipped through over half the book, stopped, flipped back a few pages, and stopped.

"No soldier wins a war," Marius began, settling his back into the wall a little. "and the Force War of Tython was made only of soldiers. Pali Trivish, a mercenary who had only recently found her connection to the Ashla, and had long denied the influence of the Bogan, quickly emerged as one of the fiercest voices against any study of that dark path of learning. She, like few others, claimed it corrupted the essence of a person, damaging their true desires as it gave them power. In the end, she lost most, as those who learned of the Ashla were ill-inclined to violence of any sort. They depended on her, and the burden of her tasks had broken her heart."

"Oh, this is a sad story." Anita said.

"No." Marius disagreed. "As far as I can tell, it's not. It's just telling us she's sad, and why."

"So it gets happier?" Thema asked.

"I think so." Marius said. "I haven't read this story yet."

"Stop interrupting." Beriven hissed.

"Anyway," Marius began. "She left Tython, once her duty to her friends was finished, and the safety of their temples and libraries was assured. She took to the stars, uncaring of where they took her, and followed paths of hyperspace that will stay unmapped for thousands of years.

"Her travels took her, eventually, to a large, dark and foreboding world. From deep space, with the world still unable to fill her view screen, she could see bright flashes from the surface of the planet.

She stopped for a time, turning the lights off in her cabin and leaving the ship in complete darkness. For hours at a time, the depth of space was so dark that she couldn't see her hand, but each time one of those lights shone, for the brief moment they lived, she could see every part of the cockpit.

"From her days as a mercenary, she had seen the brilliant bright flares of Ion bombs. Only twice, in nearly twelve years of war, and each time burned brightly in her memory. Each time, she had heard the sudden, terrified screams from those caught up in the explosions, the cascade of voices that were stifled with sudden, terrible finality.

The second time she saw the flash of an Ion bomb, and the screams she remembered accompanying it, she abandoned her life to find out why she heard those screams. It was an Ion bomb, that forced her to find Tython.

As she sat and stared, as the planet turned and she saw those explosions, she did not hear a single scream. She could feel, instead of the gut churning terror or the victims begging with every part of their being to escape death, she felt grim resignation, and steeled resolve. She could feel grief from those who survived in witness, and the rage that followed, but it was those victims, those caught up in the explosions, that kept her attention locked on the planet.

They were not afraid, even as they died."

"That's impossible." Thug spat, disbelieving.

"Shush." Anita rasped.

"She turned her ship on and drew closer, scanning through her radio for a transmission that might be meant for her. She knew, instinctively, that she had already been noticed." Marius continued.

"Identify yourself." A voice suddenly blared out, moments after she started her engines.

She tuned the transmitter and said "Pali Trivish."

"Why have you entered Amdor space?" The voice asked, harsher than before.

"I wasn't aware this planet was called Amdor." She replied."

"Neither was I." Bug said.

"It isn't. I think it's a country or something." Beriven replied.

"The space you're in is part of Clan Amdor, warrior clan of Mandalore." The voice replied, impatiently. "Power down your engines, and prepare to be boarded."

As the voice spoke a command, a destroyer came into view from the dark side of the planet. Its stained grey hull sported deep gouges in its sides, and a few parts of its hull were blown open. Its guns, which seemed to bristle from every side of the ship, were all pointed at her small freighter.

A warning light flared, and the ship lurched towards the destroyer suddenly, nearly sending her sprawling to the ground. She sighed in resignation, knowing her ship was caught in a tractor beam, and killed the power to her engines. She flipped a few switches, engaging the spare batteries for the energy shields, and hoped that they weren't inclined to simply blow her ship up.

"Great time to not have blasters on my ship." She muttered to herself.

"Wait, wouldn't having weapons be good?" Thema asked.

"It's sarcasm." Thug said. "Berry uses it all the time."

"Like this." Beriven added. "I really, really like it when you interrupt this story."

"Hush." Tha'varr hissed.

"Were you the ones using those Ion bombs?" Pali asked over the intercom.

"Just wait near the airlock with your hands on your head."

"Because you need a destroyer to detain traders and travelers, I'm guessing you are the side using the Ion bombs. Does any other side have them, or are you free about it because you're the only one?" She asked again.

"Do you want to be blown to bits right now?" Someone else asked.

Pali smiled to herself, and set the intercom to receive throughout the ship. "And who are you, to have the authority to threaten me so readily?" She asked, as she unbuckled her safety harness and left the cockpit.

"The highest authority needed to follow up on that threat." The voice answered.

"A distant relative of the ruler of clan Amdor?" She asked.

"The head of clan Amdor." The voice responded, quickly.

"You're pretty free with those Ion bombs. Did you develop the technology yourselves? You haven't used any in a little while."

"We're concerned about their effects." The voice responded.

Pali grinned as he spoke, setting her blaster to a holster on her leg. "Then why did you use them in the first place?"

"We're deterring aggression."

"On a planet with a long history of warrior-culture? I've known of mercenaries from Mandalore. I was told the warrior caste made up most of the population."

"That isn't for you to know. Cease transmissions and lower your shields." The voice responded. Pali finished belting on her small vibroblade, and started towards the escape pod.

"No. There's only one reason you're not using those Ion bombs anymore. You ran out." Pali responded, as she opened the escape pod doors.

Out the window, the destroyer was lit with a bright red hue, as the energy blasters came to life. Lazer fire crashed into the shields, ripping the ship in a brilliant white glare as the ship's shields tried to hold against the barrage that pummeled against her hull.

Pali slipped inside of the escape pod, put her hand against the launch switch, and waited."

"Waited, why?" Bug asked.

"The story will explain." Marius assured him. "She stared outside and scanned the shields, as they lit up to reflect and diffuse the blaster fire. The strain, as they went from bright white to blue, and eventually darkened, showed how quickly her shields were being exhausted.

She had seen this before, a long time ago. Shields that should have lasted hours fell in minutes to Mandalorian guns.

At the moment the shields failed, she engaged the escape pod, and only strapped herself in as it detached from the ship, and its engines thrust it away.

The escape pod was hardly out of range as the Mandalorian blasters ripped through her ship's hull, punching straight through the entire length of the ship, and almost immediately ignited the thrusters and hyperdrive. The ship turned, for a moment, into brilliant white light as the hyperdrive blew apart, and vaporized the ship.

As the darkness returned, she disengaged the escape pod's engines, and let the ship drift towards the surface, to escape detection from the destroyer and those fearsome guns.

The ship lingered nearby for hours, without moving, continuing its silent vigil. Pali was forced to sit in the darkness, strapped into the escape pod, unable to even let herself correct her course, as she felt her weightlessness fade. The escape pod, creeping closer to the planet, was now close enough for its gravity to pull on her.

The ship drifted closer to the atmosphere, where unless she intervened, engaged the pod's shields and corrected her course, she and her small ship would burn. Though if she engaged her shields, and the Mandalorians noticed, those guns were certain to deliver the same fate.

Instead, she set the engines to life, and flew towards the planet as fast as the escape pod would let her."

"Why did she do that?" Bug asked. "Won't she burn up?"

"Shush already!" Beriven exclaimed.

"She sighed in relief as the destroyer's guns stayed silent, and turned her attention to her descent.

Without the shields, the hull temperature was already showing signs of the strain reentry was putting the escape pod under. The Hull temperature was climbing, the internal coolant system sounded its warnings, and the air inside began to get warmer.

Lacking the machinery most ships have, Pali listened carefully as the walls of the pod began to stretch, wrenching as the metals heated and cooled, and the observation port cracked slightly under the strain.

It took a while, but she was willing to risk the shields. The escape pod, she hoped, would look like a small meteor, and the warriors monitoring the sensors would ignore her.

She turned on the shields, grinned as the hull temperature suddenly plummeted, and turned back to look at the destroyer.

She remembered a saying, from an old scholar and a former soldier. He had said that there was no such thing as luck.

The destroyer lit up, and red bolts began streaking past her escape pod.

If the old scholar was right, she ruefully wondered what would explain why her luck was so bad.

She quickly readjusted the power output on the shields, and as soon as the engines had slowed her descent enough, dropped the power to the engines and put everything she could into the shields.

Which saved her life, as a brilliant red bolt collided with the pod.

The hit sent the ship into a dizzying whirl, spinning so quickly that Pali nearly blacked out from the sudden surge of gravity. She pointed her hand at the escape pod door and pushed at it, breaking it off its hinges and sending it careening away. She unbuckled her seat belt, which flung her against the walls of the escape pod.

She grasped at the parachute under her seat, and managed to grasp it long enough that a sudden lurch in the pod allowed her to hold onto it as she rolled along the escape pod, and out the open door.

In free-fall, she managed to strap on the parachute and deploy it, but quickly found that she wasn't out of danger. Even with the parachute, she was falling too quickly." Marius read.

"What?" Tha'varr asked.

"Is something wrong with the parachute?" Beriven asked.

"No. The next line says she thinks the gravity of Mandalore is stronger than on most worlds."

"Really? How is that possible?" Thug asked.

"Mandalore must be heavier." Beriven explained.

"Why does that matter?"

"Think about it. Heavier things have more mass. Which must relate to gravity, because this moon goes around a planet. The planet it bigger, so we orbit it. That planet orbits the star because the star is bigger."

"But that would mean the gravity here is much weaker than on Courescant." Tha'varr pointed out.

"I heard space traders say that this moon was terraformed to make mines for some metal. Zersium, I think it was. There's supposed to be a lot of it, which makes this moon really heavy. They said the gravity was really similar." Marius said.

"What about black holes?" Tha'varr asked.

"They're small, but they have way more matter. They're super something..." Marius started.

"Super compressed." Beriven added.

"What's compressed? Bug asked.

"Squished."

"Then why not say super squished?"

Bug got a few laughs from that.

"So she's falling too quickly for the parachute. What does she do?" Anita asked.

Marius turned his eyes back to the book, and said "Pali scanned the now visible surface, and knowing she could not slow her descent, aimed her descent towards a small lake in the mountains.

A few harrowing minutes, spent second guessing her decision, and hoping that a sudden gust of wind wouldn't blow her off course, she plunged into the lake and quickly tore off her parachute, diving a little to escape the ropes.

She broke to the surface and breathed her first real, safe breath on Mandalore. She sighed, saying "feels like swimming with a durasteel suit of armor. No wonder those Mandalorians were so dangerous."

She swam to the shore, struggling with her now very heavy body to stand. She climbed out and looked around, slowly.

Just on the crest of a nearby hill, hardly more than a hundred feet away, were three men in full suits of ballistic resistant heavy armor and large carbine disruptors, all of whom were pointing those weapons straight at her.

The armor covered them from head to toe, with helmets that passed over their eyes and covered their faces completely. The armor looked to be made of durasteel plating, which while already heavy, would make it extremely heavy with this gravity. These three men were obviously very strong, to be doing woodland recon in it.

She sighed and held her hands in the air, surprised by how heavy her own arms felt in this gravity. A few deep breaths to steady herself, and she kept as still as she could while she waited for the three armored figures to walk to her.

One of them looked her up and down for a moment, then said "Most off-worlders don't do very well with our gravity."

"I wasn't left with much of an option." Pali replied, her hands still in the air.

"Any other weapons?" The same figure asked. She marked the voice as distinctly male, probably an officer.

"No. Just the vibroblade."

"Vibroblade?" One of the others asked.

"A high frequency vibration is passed through the blade, which is nanotube reinforced durasteel. It would take a while, but it could cut through a starship hull."

One of the two others, not the officer, took the blade out of her hip holster and examined it closely.

The officer turned and set his hand on the side of his helmet. "HQ, we found someone from the escape pod. She's an off-worlder. I haven't confirmed if she's from the ship the Interdiction vaporized, but the chances are pretty good. Did you pick up any other escape pods?"

"There won't be. I was the only occupant on that ship." Pali responded.

The officer took off his helmet, and regarded Pali carefully. "Any way you can confirm that?"

"No. All I can offer is the idea that if there were more passengers, we would have used more escape pods." Pali offered.

"What are you doing in Mandalorian space?" He asked.

"You're not part of clan Amdor, are you?" Pali asked, ignoring the question.

"Are you a trader, smuggler, or potential mercenary?" he asked, ignoring her question in turn.

"I have a valuable piece of information to offer in exchange for my safety." She stated carefully, her eyes not leaving the officer's face.

It hurt her heart, to look at him. He was too young, far too young, to have such fierce, harsh eyes.

"Will you let us judge the value of it? That on our honor, we will judge it's value fairly?" He asked, softly.

"I will." She answered. "Clan Amdor has no more Ion bombs."

"How did you come by this?"

"My ship was originally supposed to be detained. They held it in a tractor beam, and were preparing to board and search my ship. I had been in orbit for about twenty hours before, watching as the Ion bombs were used."

"Why?"

"Because from the victims of those bombs, I felt no fear." Pali admitted.

The three soldiers were shaken silent for a long moment. The officer, eventually, said "fallen soldiers. Not victims. They died in battle, with honor."

"Agreed, forgive me. To have died so fearlessly, despite the horror of something you cannot fight back against, I should not call them victims." Pali apologized.

"You understand something of honor. A great deal, for an off-worlder. But who are you, to know when someone is feeling fear?" The officer asked.

"I'm a practitioner of the Ashla, from Tython."

"That planet where they gathered sorcerers? Wasn't there a war there?" One of the others asked.

"There was, one that ruined much of the planet, and perhaps suggests that the Ashla and the Bogan should not be taught to anyone." Pali explained. "But when I was being towed to that ship, I spoke with the officer on the watch asking him if his clan were the ones using the Ion bombs. I deduced that the only reason they had stopped using those Ion bombs was because they ran out. After I asked them that, they destroyed my ship."

"So you're a warrior. For that, and your words, you hold some honor in our eyes. Enough that I'll speak for you when we take you to our commanders."

"I'm to be a prisoner then?" Pali asked.

"You are. You are a foreigner no one expected on a world at war. However, for your information, you'll be treated with less suspicion by those we serve. More importantly, you'll be treated well for a prisoner." The young officer informed her.

Neither of the other two soldiers moved to detain her, and when the officer gestured for her to start walking, the others moved to points on the perimiter, rather than moving to restrain her. A sign of respect that Pali, a longtime mercenary, understood.

"Is this respect for my information?" Pali asked the officer.

He turned to her, and shook his head. "No. I've heard that the practitioners of the Ashla cannot lie. Is that true?"

She shook her head, sadly. "No."

"More truth, at least. But we have heard something of the abilities of you sorcerers. Sensing emotions, seeing far distances, knowing things before they happen. When you say you knew the emotions of those who died in those explosions, we believe it."

He stopped, and turned to her. "Swear to me you're telling the truth. That when you say you knew what they felt when they died, you tell the truth."

Pali struggled for a long moment to find the words to reply. "I swear by my fallen comrades, that those felled by the Ion bombs were beyond fear."

Pali was startled when the other two soldiers turned to her, and took off their helmets. Their eyes, as harsh and fierce as their commander's, were watery. Their faces clenched in a grimace, each one of them, in turn, brought their hands to their chests sharply, in salute.

The commander, too, struggled to keep his emotions in check. "A warrior's vow. You, indeed, know much of honor. I am Taramon, Alturion of Clan Gladia. With me are Radvan and Estan, both warriors who have undergone the right of the Vanguard. We will vouch for you, and defend your honor, should it be necessary."

"I am Pali Travish, practitioner of the Ashla, and I swear to you my aid in removing the coward willing to use Ion bombs for political gain." Pali said, in turn. All three soldiers, nodded and smiled as she spoke. "But if I may ask, do warriors rule Mandalore?"

Taramon hesitated, long enough for Radavan to speak instead. "No. The clans are made of warriors, but we are ruled by a caste of those that own. Land, and the clans that inhabit them."

"But those that attacked me claimed to have the authority to use the Ion bombs. Was that actually clan Amdor?"

"Those that rule clan Amdor claim to be a part of it. They wear armor and medals of valor. They have not earned them." Taramon said, quietly.

"I am glad to hear that. From someone on that destroyer, just before they started firing, I felt fear. It seemed out of place for a people who face death with such courage." Pali explained.

"When you said they have no Ion bombs left?" Taramon asked, perceptively.

"Yes."

"How did clan Amdor come to be ruled by this caste of owners?" Pali asked.

"It was fairly recent. Ertius Polban came to acquire the land clan Amdor inhabited, and demanded the right to challenge to head the clan. Despite the lack of honor, the head of clan Amdor agreed."

"How did he win?"

"He didn't. Ertius demanded the right to use a champion, a proxy. He claimed the obviously infirm deserved the right. Caught by the demands of honor, he agreed. The man he fought, was a black-cloaked foreigner. I'm told the duel lasted almost an hour, but the foreigner won."

"That would be the other thing I sensed. A presence, similar to the presence of many sorcerer emperors on many other worlds. The presence of those who submit to the Bogan."

"This foreigner is a sorcerer?" Estan asked.

"Honor for Landon Amdor, to have faced such an enemy." Taramon said.

"I have fought practitioners of the Bogan who could fight a duel with a dozen enemies and walk away unscathed. Others who could conjure lightning from their fingertips, or make grown men cower with a glance. A company of soldiers may not have done as well as Landon Amdor." Pali said.

"A dozen men?" Radvan asked.

"Not Mandalorians, obviously." Estan replied, with a smirk.

"No. We'd use distruptors, concussion rockets and grenades. Unless it's a formal combat, you never engage in a fair fight." Taramon insisted.

"Then where is the glory of combat?" Estan asked.

"The glory of combat is in being able to win against any foe, no matter what they're capable of." Taramon replied. "The more capable the foe, the better. And if you loose, may it only be because your foe is that powerful."

The other two saluted crisply. "The way of the warrior."

"The way of the warrior." Taramon replied.

"So these Ion bombs are merely the weapons of a warrior?" Pali asked.

"Only if your enemy has something of a similar calibre. You would not pull a blaster on a small child with a stick, after all. There is no honor in battle against an opponent who is not a danger to you."

"And if your enemy also had Ion bombs?" Pali asked.

"Then the conflict is a challenge no Mandalorian warrior could ignore."

"Wow, they're really crazy." Bug said.

"How do you like battle? Being in danger sucks." Thug said.

"Don't you like fighting, thug?" Beriven asked.

"Sort of. Fighting someone is exciting, especially when you don't know if you can win. If you know you'll beat them, or that you'll loose, it's no fun."

"It's how these Mandalorians feel, too. They're just so big and strong they can use bombs and ships to fight." Marius said. "Anyway,

"What of those who do not fight? Do not wish to?" Pali asked.

"There is no honor in fighting them. Unless they seek to attack or undermine us, why bother?" Taramon asked in turn.

"So other worlds, who wish for peace, have nothing to fear from you?"

"In of themselves, no." Taramon answered.

"Do you feel the same way?" Pali asked the other two.

They both answered "Combat makes us alive," Estan answered. "Alturion Taramon understands the philosophy of it better, but we are at our best when our lives are in danger, when our lives or honor are at stake. We seek it, in whatever form we can find. Against primitives who wished to fight, we would fight with swords and without durasteel armor. Against foes with fleets, we fight with dreadnoughts and laser batteries."

"And against that sorcerer, who can cut down a dozen men in a duel?"

"Disruptor rifles and grenades, like the Alturion said." Estan answered.

"So why don't you?" Pali asked.

"Because he has Ion bombs and clans under his thumb. And in this war, we are not in a position of strength enough to challenge him. Even if we were, if we challenge Eritus Amdor, his champion is allowed to pick the weapons. If he is a practitioner of the Bogan, that combat would allow him to use those powers. None of us could fight against that."

"Then I need to be able to earn enough honor to meet that challenge. We would fight on even terms. I don't need to earn enough honor to make that challenge, though." Pali speculated.

"No. The condition of a champion has already been invoked. He could not deny our use of it." Taramon said. "A cunning plan, sorcerer."

"Wait a minute." Radvan exclaimed, holding up a hand. "Did we really just discover our enemy has run out of their best weapon, and find a way to depose their champion? That quickly?"

"The Ashla has a tendency to guide. You get used to it." Pali said with a shrug.

"Well, let's go give the clan the good news." Estan said. "Saddle up, commander?"

Taramon donned his helmet, and slung the disruptor blaster over his shoulder. "Let's go."

"And I'll leave it at that for tonight. We shouldn't be up too late." Marius finished, closing the book.

"Ah. It was getting good." Anita said.

"Thema and Bug have to work tomorrow. They might get fired if they're too cranky." Beriven agreed, opening the door. "Anyway, I'm kinda tired now."

"Me too." Tha'varr agreed. "Good story, Merry."

"Yeah, thanks." Thug agreed. "You'll do it again?"

"Of course. Though I'm gonna work harder on getting more of you to read."

"Why?" Thema asked.

"So that someone else can tell the story. My throat hurts." Merry said, with a silly grin. The others laughed a little, and Mystery held out a glass of water in his hands.

No one knew when he went and got it. It was one of those things about Mystery that the others simply lived with.


	7. Chapter 5, The Man on the Balcony

The rooftops, to a cautious child, were often safer than the streets. Fewer people, and only those with purpose and direction, took the thieves' road across Vos'Marr. From the high roads, you could go about your business without fearing the thugs and vagabonds that wandered the cobblestones below.

On that high road, unblinking eyes staring hungrily at a couple of young faces, a young orphan boy who knew his name as Damos stalked the highroads. Well practiced steps kept him in easy sight of two children, despite their steady speed and the press of the crowd around them.

On brief occasions, when the wooden planks between rooftops would allow it, Damos could hear small shards of their conversation, and found himself letting his quarry slip away until they were out of earshot.

It wasn't what they were saying, which consisted to a flurry of references to 'minced pastries', 'merry berry' and 'menu', but the idyllic tone that they carried that drew him to follow them.

Like him, these two were both orphans. A boy and a girl, both younger than he, and no strangers to the clawing, horrifying desperation that came from prolonged hunger. He had seen them both before, weak and sallow-eyed, greedily clutching scraps of food from garbage.

It hurt his heart, in a way that tore all too similarly to hunger, to see the two of them with calm, hopeful eyes and cheerful voices.

He crossed a small beam that lead into a small balcony, where he knelt and listened for the two children he followed.

"How do you spell menu?" The boy asked. Damos watched as the boy handed a small stick to the girl, and pointed into the dirt at the street corner.

She paused, and slowly drew M-E-N-U on the ground. "Merry said that if has that written on the top, in big letters, then it's a menu." The girl explained.

"When did he learn how to read?" The boy asked, and the girl only shrugged in reply. It took Damos a few incredulous moments to decide that Merry was in fact a person.

His quarry's pace, though idyllic, quickly took them out of earshot, and Damos scrambled to follow them.

* * *

"Merry." Beriven said, hesitantly.

The two of them had been busy in the fridge for over an hour, trying to drag a small shelf through a much smaller door. Marius insisted that it could be done, while Beriven, needing to talk with his friend, took to the task with relish.

"It'll work, Berry. I swear it." Marius insisted. "I think if we take the front end in first, and then stand it up while it's at an angle, we can wedge it through the frame."

"It's not that." Beriven admitted, and Marius slowly let the shelf set on the ground, solemnly staring.

"You're going to start bringing other people here, aren't you? Other orphans." Beriven said, looking at Marius through the shelf. "You're going to want to help them."

Marius sighed, and said slowly "No and Yes."

"What the hell does that mean?" Beriven asked, his temper suddenly flaring.

"You asked two questions, didn't you? No, I don't want to bring more people here, and yes, I want to help the other orphans in the city." Marius replied, a note of steel in his voice.

"Why didn't you say that in the first place?" Beriven shouted.

"Because I thought your head was filled with something other than Minorsan mush!" Marius said, scathingly. "Don't ask questions if you don't want to hear answers!"

"Don't be a smart-ass if you aren't smart!" Beriven retorted.

Both boys stared at each other for a long moment, their unblinking glares fixed directly into each other's eyes. Their hands gripped the shelf, their heads tilted forward a little, and both boys tried hard to scowl.

Their silent face-off lasted just long enough for the freezer fan to start, and blow flakes of snow into their faces. They flinched, turned their heads away, and turned back.

Beriven had his hands beside his head, thumbs resting in his ears, and his tongue sticking out. Marius started laughing as soon as he saw this, and both boys fell to the floor in a fit.

"What were we arguing about, Merry?" Beriven gasped, between giggles.

"I don't know, stupid. You brought it up." Marius responded, in brief pants.

As the laughter subsided, the boys sat against the door of the fridge, and looked at each other.

"What're you worrying about, Berry?" Marius asked.

"You." Beriven said. "You look guilty about everything we've done."

"Not about what we have now. It's just..." Marius tried to explain, finishing with a lame little shrug.

"You think we shouldn't have what we do?"

"No, not that."

"But you think other orphans should have it, too?" Beriven asked.

"Exactly. We shouldn't be starving, but why should the others out there?" Marius asked. He gestured towards the doors, and said "If we can do something to help them, why shouldn't we?"

"Because we're not responsible for them." Beriven insisted, crossing his arms. "We look after our friends, or family. We don't reach beyond that because it's not the way the world works."

"Who cares if it's how the world works. Why should it be how we work?" Marius asked. "Why should we do nothing to help them, just because no one else is?"

"Because our family isn't completely off the streets yet, either. Should we spend our time finding jobs for other orphans, or setting up free meals once in a while, instead of teaching the others to read and write?" Beriven countered. "What about finding Mystery, or Anita and you jobs? And if we spend all this time helping out other orphans, why should we live off our family's hard work without contributing?"

Marius had no ready response, and he leaned back against the wall and slumped his head. "I don't know, Berry. I really don't, but..."

"But you want to anyway." Berry finished, a note of disappointment in his voice.

"I think I should be, Berry. It might not be right away, but it has to happen soon. If we start living the good life while there are still orphans starving, I don't think I could handle it." Marius admitted.

"I don't know either, Merry. But we've gotta worry about ourselves, first." Beriven insisted. "If we don't, we might loose what we have, and be back to stealing for food. None of us want that."

"No." Marius agreed. "But when can we start? When are we safe enough that we can help out?"

Beriven shrugged lamely, and turned back to the shelf, still stuck half-way through the door. The boys struggled with it some more, eventually managing to take it apart before trying to fit it through the doorway. Neither of them spoke.

* * *

Damos stopped just above a small cafe, watching straight below as his quarry walked inside through the front door. There was still a full half-hour before the store opened, which confirmed to the boy that the two children he had followed were employed.

It meant the strange little man had told the truth.

He stared at the door hungrily, his stomach fondly remembering yesterday's succulent roast. His mouth watered, and he closed his eyes in order to catch the new aromas that started to trickle through the front doors.

Unknown to him, that strangle little man was already sitting on the balcony just below, watching the boy with a carefully sculpted mask of indifference.

"Well, boy. Found something that interests you?" The man asked, loudly, to the bemused boy. Damos leapt up, glancing around wildly for a moment around him, as if afraid.

The man laughed, softly, until Damos looked down the balcony. "You nearly killed me, mister." He said, climbing down the wall.

"You should be more careful." The man replied, pointing across the table. "Have some Minorsans, they just arrived on a freighter."

Not waiting for another invitation, Damos shot greedy fingers into the plate of fruit, snatching at the largest piece his eyes could find.

"Don't dirty the rest of them with your fingers." The man admonished, speaking loudly. Damos nodded, and reached his hand out more carefully for his next piece.

The boy sat down carefully, and looked at the man for a long moment. "Why are you here, again?"

"I like the food." The man replied, taking a piece of fruit. "They make a marvelous minced pastry, you know."

"Don't kid me." Damos said harshly, leaning forward. "You dragged me up here yesterday, just to tell me a couple of orphans had found jobs. Now you're here again. Why?"

"People aren't like lightning bolts. They often end up in the same place more than once." The man said, between quick bites of the fruit.

"What?" Damos asked, confused.

"Never mind." The man said. He turned away from Damos, towards the stairs. "Could you bring up a bit of Descan Coffee?" He shouted down the stairs. "With just a hint of milk?"

Damos hardly had a moment to stare downstairs before a cheerful looking girl poked her head around the corner, and asked "Descan Coffee? Anything for your friend, sir?"

Damos recognized her instantly as a half of the orphaned duo he had been stalking all morning. He hissed to himself, ready to bolt, until he was certain that she didn't recognize him.

The man smiled to himself, and said "I already told him about your minced pastry. Bring up a glass of juice with it."

"Yes, sir." She said, turning back down the stairs.

"Odds are pretty good that she'll botch your order," the man told Damos, "but she's barely been working a month. She's actually pretty good, for someone who's just seen the first decade of her life."

"What do they pay her?" Damos asked, hunger in his voice.

The man shrugged in response, but smiled faintly.

They both turned as footsteps trundled up the stairs, and the little girl cradled a minced pastry and a glass of minorsan juice on a small tray.

"Your lucky day." The short man said, as he took the tray from her hands. He set the food in front of Damos, who attacked it with hasty, unsteady hands. The man turned to the girl, and asked her "How much do they pay you, little girl?"

"Three ducats a week." She said proudly, and added in a bit of a whisper to Damos "and they feed me lunch for free."

Damos' ears perked at he thought of eating regularly, and asked "Is it enough to live on?"

"So far." She replied, with a shrug. "It's a little new for us, but we can buy food regularly."

"Are you really an orphan? You don't look it anymore." Damos said.

"Yeah, I am." She answered.

"Can you find me work? Here maybe? Or somewhere else?" Damos asked, hungrily. He stared at her, ignoring his half-finished food despite his hunger, hinging on what he might hear next.

The girl stepped backwards a step, suddenly wary, while the man sitting across from them smiled to himself.

* * *

Beriven looked carefully at the small pile of coins sitting on the makeshift table, and slid a few into a smaller pile.

"This is what we need for food. It will buy some grains, pasta, and vegetables. It's enough to feed everyone for a month, give or take a few days." Beriven explained.

"Give or take a few days? Why is that?" Thug asked.

"Because some days, Thug eats more than usual." Anita said sagely.

"So Thug's gonna pay for our food?" Beriven asked, with a sheepish grin to belay the faux gravity of his query.

The others laughed, gently, until Marius started sliding coins back to the wage-earners in the group.

"This is all the group needs to keep us fed, and since Anita found that new job Beriven works at, we don't have to have a clothing budget." Marius said, as he slid the last Ducat back to Beriven.

"Didn't we decide that we'd need work clothes? Especially me and Thema?" Bug asked quickly.

"When does she get back, anyway?" Thug asked.

"We did, but we haven't decided how we're going to pay for that." Marius answered, ignoring Thug. "Do we want a pot that everyone pitches into, or do we want to buy our own?"

"A pot." Thug insisted.

"Really?" Beriven asked, a little surprised. "How come?"

"Because that way we have extra money to take, when we need it. Especially if someone's starting a job, you know?" Thug explained.

Berivn and Marius nodded to each other, making a great show of being impressed. A few snickers came from the others, and Thug threw a pencil at Beriven.

"When does Thema get back?" Thug asked, again.

"In about an hour." Marius answered. "How much do we want to put aside for it?"

"How about a half-ducat a month from each of us?" Beriven asked. "If it's too much, we can set a cap on how much goes in the pot."

"That's a good idea. How about fifteen ducats max." Thug said.

"I like it." Bug agreed.

The group slid a half-ducat each back to Marius, who took a small, glass jar that used to have pickled mumbels in it. He dropped in inside, and on a piece of paper, wrote down the two and a half ducats, folded the piece of paper up, and set the paper inside the jar.

"Should we have a jar set up for other things? Like when we bought the sleeping bags. Something we use to save up for a bed, blankets, a moisture collector so we don't need to use the creek on the outskirts to shower." Bug said.

The others looked at each other without answering, and Bug nervously stared at the ground until Marius spoke.

"Did you have any projects in mind?"

"Well, I think we need one more sleeping bag." Bug said, after a moment. "I remember you and Anita fighting over who got to go without one last night. It kept me up for a while."

"Merry just wouldn't admit it wasn't his turn." Anita said, with a mocking frown.

"You had gone three days in a row." Marius exclaimed.

"Right. One more sleeping bag. Everyone pay up, or Merry and Anita share from now on." Beriven said, with a grin. Everyone started laughing, as the group slid Beriven a few ducats. "I'll buy it before dinner. No one wants to hear Merry and Anita howling late at night."

The laughter was loud enough to bring Tha'varr in from the kitchen, asking "who's keeping us up at night?"

"Merry and Anita. You know, a boy, a girl, only one sleeping bag..." Thug started lamely. Tha'varr shot him a dirty look, and Anita reached over to smack him across the back of the head.

"Oh, on a side note." Marius said. "I have one more potential job. An elderly merchant, a fortune teller. She was asking about having a cute girl around to do 'palm reading', or something along that line."

"What are the work hours like?" Anita asked.

"Four days a week, four hours a day."

"What's she offering?"

"Two ducats a week." Marius said, bewildered. "It seems she takes in more customers than she can handle. Oh, if you take this job, we just need to find work for Tha'varr, Mystery and me."

Bug cheered at that, though the others didn't say anything.

"Anita, are you sure you want to take the job?" Beriven asked.

"I thought we'd find something for Mystery and Tha'varr first." Anita said. "You know, because me and Merry are doing so well at finding jobs."

"Besides, Merry needs to start teaching these fools how to read." Beriven noted. "That just leaves Anita to do most of the job hunting."

Mystery chimed in after a moment, adding "Should we be paying Tha'varr, since she does all the cooking?"

There were a few guilty looks from around the group, but they were interrupted when the door slammed shut, followed by the rapid patter of running feet.

"Guys!" Thema said, breathlessly. She threw herself into the circle, slumping to the ground and panting heavily. "We have a problem."

"What is it?" Marius asked.

"There's a boy, another orphan like us, who just asked me if we'd find him a job. He knows we call ourselves the lucky orphans, and he tried to follow me here!" Thema said.

A few of the boys swore, and Mystery stood up and left, heading for another room. "Did you manage to loose him?" Marius asked.

"I think so. He's pretty familiar with the rooftops, but I managed to duck through one of the sewer tunnels near the clock-tower." Thema answered.

"Good." Beriven replied. "Do you remember who the boy was? A name, even?"

"I don't know him, except the man who introduced us called him Damos." Thema answered.

"A man?" Beriven asked, incredulously.

"You mean the short man who always sits on the balcony? The one that's usually there twice a week?" Bug said.

"Exactly, him. Seems he was giving the orphan food."

Beriven looked over to Marius, who nodded quickly. Beriven turned back to Thema, and asked "Can you tell me anything else about him?"

"He's short, a little shorter than Thug. He has black hair, and he wears loose clothing. He looks like a vagabond, but he's clean. His face has no hair on it, and his fingernails don't have a lot of dirt under them." Thema said.

"It's definitely him." Marius said.

"Who?"

"We'll explain at dinner, when everyone's here. In the meantime, Berry, could you and Thug take a look around, just to make sure he isn't nearby? Anita, you may as well buy that sleeping bag, and the rest of us will help Tha'varr with dinner." Marius said.

"Who put you in charge?" Thug asked, with a bit of a grin. There were a few laughs from the comment, and Marius smiled.

* * *

Marius found Mystery sitting in a dark broom closet, with his eyes closed and his head resting against the back of the wall.

"Thinking?" Marius asked, and grinned a little when Mystery didn't respond.

"That's a yes, I think." Marius said. "Berry and I are sure this guy who tipped off Damos was 'the boss'. We saw him before, when we were selling food to the cook."

"The boss." Mystery said. "The silent and largely anonymous ruler of Vos Ma'ar. What don't we know, Marius?"

"What do you mean?" Marius asked, confused.

"We know that it was the Boss, but we don't know what he's doing, or why he's doing it." Mystery explained.

Marius smiled at him, a strange experience considering the stress they were now under. "How are you so calm right now?"

Mystery only shrugged.

"Is he trying to destroy us, for lying to his goons?" Marius asked.

"Too much time has passed, and it's too subtle. Why try to get the orphans to rob and hurt us when he could just have his goons do it?" Mystery said.

"It's also..." Marius said, carefully. "It seems like a test. If he wanted to destroy us, he would have done it. But I think our more immediate problem is this boy, Damos. What do we do about him?"

"Do we help him? Do we hurt him? Do we ignore him?" Mystery reflected.

"How about helping him?" Mystery asked.

"How about the old post man? That old guy who delivers the letters? If Damos is comfortable with the rooftops..." Marius asked.

Mystery smiled, and said "You should tell Beriven that."

"No. I need to go talk with someone else. Would you mind telling Berry? Let him know before he finds Damos."

* * *

Marius braved the dark streets across a route he, and his friends, had taken once before. Having entangled themselves again with the unofficial authority of Vos Ma'ar, Marius walked towards the Stump in a desperate attempt to keep his companions safe.

He hesitated at the front doors, finding that as he raised his hand to knock on the door, it shook uncontrollably. His eyes were fighting back tears, and his bones felt as heavy as lead.

Despite it, he grinned. Part of him, a strange and usually quiet part, knew that if those he cared about were in danger, that he would not want to be anywhere but in the way. That part of him put the grin on his face, and let him knock his fist against the door.

He knocked three times, as loudly as his little fist would let him.

The door opened, lethargically, to reveal the same big man who let them inside when they had come looking for the cook. "What'd you want?" He asked.

"I'm here to see the boss. He's expecting me." Marius said, without a single quiver in his voice.

At once disturbing and relieving, the big man said "Funny, that. He said some little urchin might come bash on the door. Told me to show him inside. Be buggered if I know why. But that's why he's the boss." He stepped aside, leaving the door open and beckoning Marius inside. "Be on your best behaviour, mind. I'll break your bones as quickly as anyone else, child or no."

Marius swallowed and nodded emphatically, stopping just short of giving a 'yes, sir' to the big man. He said 'thanks' to the door man, though, and asked "where should I go? I've never met the boss before."

The big man smiled. "Your problem," he said. "Boss added that if you couldn't pick him out, that you didn't have any business talking to him."

Marius actually felt a little relieved, as he took in what the bouncer told him. He stepped into the room, and immediately began scanning the tables, looking for that person who, before, had made such a dramatic impression on him.

The many tables on the bar floor were filled with people, so much so that the noise seemed to create a visible haze in the air. Conversations and cheers merged into a single, uncomfortable melody that made thinking difficult. Putting his hands to his ears, Marius scanned the fringes instead, and while noting the private balcony overhead, looked over to the dark, poorly lit corners of the room.

In one of them, at a small table with only two chairs, sat a small, ordinary looking man wearing a brown cloak. He sat gently on his seat, as if afraid to put too much of a burden on it, and looked busy contemplating the small tea-pot set before him.

Marius smiled, and began walking over to that small corner.

The moment he made about half of the distance, someone else slipped into step beside him, and softly asked "are you Marius or Beriven?"

Marius turned to him, his face ashen, blood pounding in his legs, his eyes already locked on the exit. The same man spoke again, and made a placating gesture with his hands. "Whoa, kid. Relax. If the boss is letting you come talk to him, you're as safe as you can ever be in this city. He'd have my head for attacking a guest."

Marius turned to him, forcing his breathing to slow, and said "I bet you scared me for fun."

The man, surprisingly tall considering how well he blended into the crowd, gave a sheepish grin and shrugged. "Yeah, a little" he admitted. "But I'm asking because depending on your answer, you either won me a ship, or just sent me to Artanus on a shipping run that I won't be paid for." He stopped, and held out his hand. "Gothe Mortimer, trader or smuggler, depends on how legal my cargo is."

"Marius Altaire." The boy answered, giving the hand a firm shake.

"Gizka barf!" Gothe said, the sheepish grin flickerling a little as he took the hand. "I don't suppose you can pretend to be Beriven. I was really looking forward to owning my own ship."

"Sorry, but I don't know the Boss very well. I'd rather not be in his bad books before I meet him." Marius replied.

"Besides, I'll bet he already knows. All-right kid, let's go see what he wants to do with you." He said, picking up a chair and heading towards the small man in the brown cloak.

Marius followed, and as soon as they stepped beyond the last chair before the boss' small table, the noise suddenly disappeared.

"Noise cancelers." Gothe explained, as he noticed Marius' startled expression. "It saves the lungs a lot of work."

They stepped up to the table, and Gothe put his chair down. He offered it to Marius, who shook his head, waiting. The Boss still looked lost in thought, and had yet to look up and acknowledge the two of them.

Anxious seconds passed before the Boss looked up, and asked "Courtesy? Or am I misunderstanding you?"

"Courtesy, sir. I am just a guest." Marius replied.

"No. Not just a guest. You, my young friend, are a confusticating puzzle, my most vexing quandary." He then gestured to the open seat, and inclined his head to Marius, who gratefully sat down. "You see, I've learned a great deal about you 'lucky orphans', including the inspirational minds that enable it to flourish. You and your friend, Beriven Vaime, turned a group of lost, hopeless orphans into children who are fed, clothed, and happy. You have gathered for them the essentials of a dignified life, and you did it not only without making them a burden, but made use of their own potential to make it happen."

"We had a lot of help." Marius said. "It wouldn't have happened if they weren't willing and capable."

"True." The Boss replied. "But the difference between a competent general, and a magnificent one, is being able to bring out and make use of the real capacity of those he leads. Finding work for a group of orphans is a feat I have been attempting to achieve for almost a decade, and I have less to show for it than you and Berry."

Marius gulped a little when he heard Beriven's nickname used aloud.

"Do you know why there is no slave trade in Vos Ma'ar? Particularly in a place with no official government and an overabundance of parent-less children?" The Boss asked, quietly.

Marius thought for a moment, before saying "I don't know, sir. I never thought about it before. I suspect, though, it's because you did something to prevent it?"

"I did. A bloody war that cost too many lives. Believe me, kid, I didn't do it out of a keen sense for business. Slavery is still profitable on Laxum, and burying a crime syndicate is expensive." The Boss explained.

"Thank you, sir." Marius said.

The Boss, for the first time, reacted. He looked startled, as Marius offered him something he never expected to hear. It was with a suddenly choked voice, that the Boss said "You're very welcome."

Even the trader, Gothe, seemed a little taken aback, and leaned over to Marius. "I've never seen him react before. Not like that. Be careful."

The boss smiled, and the emotions seemed to melt back beneath his face. "Where this concerns you, Marius, is that I have not been able to fit you orphans into how the city runs. As much as I tried, I couldn't create the institutions, or get the people interested in improving your situation. If you orphans survived the first bunch of years, and got old enough to make yourselves useful, I could make use of you myself, or find someone else who could give you an honest life. But for the children, I was powerless to help them."

"When you found jobs for two of your companions, I wasn't all that impressed. It was when I asked the owner, and discovered that you were going to teach them how to read, that startled me. You see, a job in itself isn't going to help these orphans. What I needed, and always lacked, was the capacity to set up schools, to teach orphans and still provide them a certain amount of leisure. The two who work in that cafe can now read about two-thirds of the menu, and are fairly good at figuring out the rest. While the pace isn't as effective as a real school on Courascent, it is an improvement, and your friends do have the luxury of free-time.

My question, Marius, was if I could make use of you. If you're accomplishments could be applied to the orphans outside of your little group."

The Boss smiled, and said "Have you deduced, finally, why I sent Damos to you?"

"Is that the boy's name? The one who followed Thema home?" Marius asked.

"You came here before meeting him?" The boss asked. "Before having the situation explained by him?" He leaned back in his chair a little, and set his hands beneath his chin. "I underestimated you. How did you know which table to walk to?"

"We saw you before." Marius admitted. "When we were here the first time, to make that proposal to the cook."

"Ah, I do remember that. It's what first prompted me to have you children watched. Brilliant decision, by the way." He added, raising his cup a little in a salute to the boy. "But I didn't think you recognized who I am, just from having seen me once. What tipped you off? My anonymity is a part of my reputation in Vos Ma'ar."

Marius smiled sheepishly, and said "You don't actually look like you belong. You're dressed like a vagabond, but you're completely clean. No hair on your face, no dirt on your robes, and your boots aren't nearly worn-out enough."

"That shouldn't have tipped you off." The Boss said.

"Not by itself. But people who can afford it dress nicer, and those that don't aren't as clean. You just don't fit, if someone can stop and figure it out." Marius finished, sheepishly.

"Ha! He pegged you! The little boy does what even private detectives can't." Gothe Mortimer exclaimed, giving Marius a hard pat on the back.

"There's a good story in that." The Boss agreed. "Those crime syndicates I mentioned earlier, a few of them hired..." He paused, and waved his hand. "Later. For now, boy, we need to decide what we're going to do with you. You're here, not because I'm demanding retribution, but because I have a problem. One much larger than you and your friends."

Marius waited, as the Boss explained that "My problem is with the orphans. The entire city is drowning in them, and I'm having a hard time finding a solution. My subordinates have some reservations about using muscle to keep them in line, and they're too young to do grunt work for me. They're too bold about stealing, and without a government here in Vos Ma'ar, there's no orphanages or schools to put them in." He said, quietly.

"I need them off the streets. They either need to be cared for, contributing, or elsewhere." He said.

Marius swallowed hard, and asked "Why us?"

"You're smarter than that, boy." The Boss replied, scathingly. "You know why."

"Because you think you can use us."

"Exactly. Or, at least, I was certain, but you surprised me by deducing my plan before you chose to help Damos. This creates a problem, because I can't trust you if you're not willing to help them, on your own. If I coerce you into it, you'll keep your eyes open for the first chance to run. That will get you killed, and then I'm just back where I started."

"So, unless my friends find Damos, and decide to help him, we're toast?" Marius asked. He swallowed hard, and remembered the bitter fight with Beriven over how much help they should offer the other children.

"More or less. The thing that bodes poorly for either of us, is the fact that you're here." The Boss answered. "As far as I've been able to tell, you're the compassionate one in the group. Not being there, who will decide what your friends do about Damos?"

"Beriven." Marius said.

"Then I suggest you settle into your seat, and enjoy the meal I'm about to serve. You and I will wait, to see how your friends deal with Damos."


	8. Interlude, Storytime II

"Okay Merry, I think it's time you finished that story." Beriven said, suddenly. They were about a quarter hour into dinner, Thug had already finished, and Tha'varr had already started fussing over some of the fruit they had recently purchased.

Though surprised, the other children who heard the suggestion readily agreed.

"Yeah Merry, it's been weeks since you started it." Anita agreed.

"We wanna know what happens to Nali." Thema agreed.

"I think it's Pali." Bug said.

"Pali Trivish." Thug said, breathlessly. "I've been thinking about that story every night since you started it, Merry."

"Well, do we have anything really important to do?" Beriven asked. The others shook their heads, and even Marius found nothing to say in response.

"Then it's settled. As soon as Bug, Thema and I finish the dishes, Merry will start reading the rest of the story. Thug and Anita can go get our sleeping bags and help Tha'varr with whatever she has planned." Beriven said.

Marius grinned sheepishly, and shook his head. "Don't you have work tomorrow morning, Thug?" He asked.

"Yeah. But one of us always has work." Thug said, with a shrug. "Do you want to read in here?"

"Yeah. I'll set up under the lamp in the corner." Marius replied. He stepped out to go find his book as the others started their tasks, taking vigorously to their chores.

In his absense, Tha'varr had finished her tasks, and the dishes were left to dry. Bug, Thema, Thav'arr and Beriven were already starting on a small, sweet dish of fruit and whipped cream as Thug started laying their sleeping bags down on the floor in a circle around where Marius was planning to read.

By the time Marius came back, the rest of them were waiting, and beside his bed was a small bowl of dessert, and a glass of water.

Marius grinned, and said "Thanks, guys."

He sat down and opened the book, straight to where he had left a small piece of paper. "Does anyone need a recap?" He asked.

No one said anything, but a few people looked to Thema and grinned.

"Okay then. Basically, a warrior from a sorcerer training world called Tython was wandering the galaxy. Her name is Pali Trivish, and she came across a world called Mandalore, which has a reputation for producing great warriors. They're using Ion Bombs on their own people, and they shoot her ship down when she asks about it. She's found by a rival clan's scouts, who agree to take her back under protective custody."

"So anyway," Marius begins. "Three hours pass swiftly through the quiet, warmly lit jungles before Taramon leads the others into a clearing. They had kept the pace of a slow run throughout, despite the Mandalorian's heavy armor, and Pali's unfamiliarity with the planet's heavy gravity.

As the forest gave way to a grassy clearing, the other two took up defensive positions near a small grove of rocks, while Taramon took off his backpack and fished out a small communications array.

"I take it," Pali said, softly, as she ducked down behind a rock near the Mandalorian captain. "That because you don't have a speeder nearby, that we're in enemy territory."

Captain Taramon grinned at her, and said "You'd make a formidable strategist. We're actually about half a day away from our clan. If I can make radio contact with one of the recon parties patrolling the borders, we should be picked up in about twenty minutes. If not,"

"More running." Pali noted. She closed her eyes for a moment, and allowed herself to see through the Ashla, allowing its power to give her eyes sight that could see through rocks and walls, and across great distances.

On the edge of her sight, like a dark stain on the horizon, she could see the presence of that mysterious sorcerer who served clan Amdor. Against the soft, small lights of those not attuned to this mysterious power, the dark ink of his presence was as noticeable as a carrier ship in a small village.

It did not escape Pali's attention that she, too, would be quite noticeable to one who could see through the Ashla. Even a practitioner of the Bogan, surrendered to its dominating need for self-indulgence, would see her.

"We might be in danger." Pali said.

"Of course. We're half a day in enemy territory with no sure way back." Taramon said.

"More so than you realize." She added. "I can sense the sorcerer. Even at this distance. He's over there," And she pointed to the horizon. "About three days on foot."

Taramon stared intently towards where she pointed. "The Capital, with the largest spaceport on the continent, is that way. If he's anywhere, he should be there."

"The problem is, if I can sense him, he can probably do the same." Pali said.

Taramon's eyes widened at the realization, and he turned to the soldiers nearby. "Two minutes, drink some water and eat a little bit. We can't wait for the speeder. Amdor's sorcerer may be able to sense our guest."

He offered her a water flask, which she took gratefully. "How specific is this ability? Can he tell exactly where you are?" He asked, after she started drinking.

She handed the flask back to him, and said "I can tell he's in a city, but I'd have to be closer to be more specific. I'm going to start looking for patrols, but unless he comes looking for us himself, he can only relay a general location."

"So we'll be able to stay out of sight, but we'll never shake them until we get into our own territory." Taramon concluded, checking the charge on his disruptor carbine. "It's going to be a long day."

"Not the sort of day I like, sir." Estan said, "I prefer a straight fight to all this sneaking around."

"Remember what victory is, Estan. It's getting the four of us to safety with what we know. We adjust our tactics accordingly." Taramon said sternly.

"I know, I know. I still don't like it." Estan muttered.

"We may have an alternative." Pali said softly, pointing to the horizon. "They likely assume I'm alone, within only light weaponry. They won't be expecting the three of you."

The three Mandalorians exchanged a long, meaningful look between them. Despite the face covering helmets, Pali knew and shared the grin on their faces.

"That more to your liking, Estan?" Taramon asked.

"Don't you know it!" Estan and Radavan both exclaimed, pumping their disruptor rifles in the air.

"A half-hour later," Marius began.

"What?" Bug asked. "What happened to that half-hour?"

"Nothing important. That's why the story is skipping it." Marius explained.

"Oh." Bug said, and sank back a little, grinning sheepishly at Beriven, who's scowl was fierce enough to set paper on fire.

"So, a half-hour later, a small speeder crested the nearby hill, and caught Pali making a speedy dash into the dense brush surrounding a river bed. A few futile shots were fired into the brush, before the speeder turned to stop at the edge of the brush.

A half-dozen Mandalorians, all armored, clambered out of the speeder, disruptor rifles trained on the area Pali was last seen. One of them, who's armor was pained with bright red streaks down the arms, waved his fist towards the bush and held the hand back up again, holding two fingers in the air. Two others moved quickly to the edge of the bushes, slowing to a near crawl as they started inside.

The red painted guard, their commander, pointed to the speeder and held another two fingers in the air. Two other Mandalorians took up positions beside some rocks, near the speeder.

As the commander started to walk a little to the east, one more soldier accompanying him, the two soldiers who had started into the woods finally disappeared from view.

As soon as they faded from sight, disruptor fire erupted from behind the Mandalorians guarding the speeder, catching both of them unawares. The blasters were barely heard before the guards were thrown to the ground, burn holes through their armor.

The commander whirled and ducked behind a fallen log, while his companion dove behind a small pile of rocks. They were professional soldiers, calm enough under fire to not shoot recklessly and reveal their position. Instead, both soldiers scanned their surroundings, searching earnestly for their attackers.

The nervous silence that followed ended quickly, as someone screamed from the woods. A small shuffling of brush followed, and two quick disruptor blasts followed. The commander waited, staring towards the woods, then gestured towards the woods.

The other soldier stood, moving towards the edge of the brush, when another quick disruptor blast flashed against the side of his helmet. He fell to the ground, the clatter of his armor echoing in the air.

The commander whirled and spied the shooter, who ducked down beneath the tall grass. He started firing in that direction, getting three quick shots off before another disruptor blast took him in the back, dropping him to the ground.

"Clear!" Taramon shouted, from his position. He crawled out of his burrow, a hastily enlarged hole that some small animal used as a shelter, and waved towards the speeder.

"Clear!" Estan shouted, now standing over the two Mandalorians guarding the speeder. He prodded them both carefully with his disruptor blaster, and then checked under their helmets for a pulse.

"Clear!" Pali shouted, from the woods. She stepped out of the brush, a blaster in her right hand. Her left held her short vibroblade, which still hummed quietly.

"I'm hurt!" Radavan shouted, and the other two Mandalorians dashed over to his position in the tall grass.

Estan arrived first, and took out a small knife, applying it to the joints between Radavan's armor. "Where did he get you?" Estan asked.

"Just below the left shoulder." Radavan gasped. "That commander was a crack shot."

Taramon stepped up to Radavan, and took off Radavan's helmet. "You're lucky we have the speeder. You'd probably slow us down with that wound."

"Sorry, sir." Radavan gasped.

"Don't be. You did well." Taramon said, grinning.

Taramon flinched suddenly, in sudden understanding, as Estan took a small cannister out of his utility belt. He grasped Radavan's other shoulder firmly, and said "get ready, this is going to hurt."

Estan started spraying something, and Radavan screamed in pain.

Pali caught up to them, and kneeling beside a gasping Radavan, asked Taramon "What did you do?"

"Bespin Soda, just cold enough to be a liquid. The soda counteracts the corrosion from the disruptor blast, and the cold neutralizes the burning. It hurts like hell, and he'll be sick for a week, but he should be able to use that arm again." Estan explained, as Radavan started coughing weakly.

Taramon stood up, and slid his blaster underneath Radavan, just below the shoulders. "Pali, slide that blaster about halfway between his stomach and waist. Grab both blasters. Estan, slide your gun beneath his knees. We'll carry him back to the speeder."

Radavan grunted a little as they picked him up, but was otherwise silent as thye carried him to the speeder, and gently (as much as you can, with a Mandalorian wearing Durasteel armor), draped him along the back seats.

"Estan, take the rear guns. Pali, take the sensors and keep an eye out for approaching soldiers.

"My sight through the Ashla will serve us better." Pali said. "There's another small group, about twenty minutes away. No one else is anywhere near us."

"All right then. Take the sensors anyway, we need to talk about what we do next." Taramon insisted. "Besides, you can check the transponder signals and see if any allies are nearby."

Everyone else manned their posts, as Taramon took the ship up and set out towards friendly territory.

"Hey, Merry?" Anita asked, quickly. Marius turned to her and stopped talking, inviting her to continue.

"You're not going to stop there, are you? I know it seems like a good spot, but it's still early." Anita said. Beriven and Thug both shouted in agreement, and the others murmured their assent.

"I wasn't gonna stop yet." Marius said.

"They passed through the border without incident, and slipped into a small outpost mostly buried beneath a hill." Marius continued. "A small cave, barely large enough to fit the speeder, was watched by a well camouflaged sentry, who had long since marked their approach.

Taramon took the comm, "Alturion Taramon, Gamma Bata zero four. Recon mission all accounted for, plus one. One NEMA."

"NEMA?" Pali asked.

"Non-emergency medical assistance." Taramon said.

"Only on Mandalore, would a disruptor burn not be an emergency." Pali said wistfully.

"It's to be expected on the only world that produces real soldiers." Taramon retorted. "Forgive me though, if you intended that as a compliment."

"Sort of. I admire your strength, but wonder about your priorities." Pali said, softly.

Taramon shrugged, as they passed into a long tunnel. The only lights eminated from the searchlights on the speeder, and couldn't reach whatever end Taramon was fixed on.

"I've only heard vague rumors before now, but a great deal is being told of this 'war of force', that happened on Tython. What happened, and how great were the battles that happened there?"

Pali shook her head sadly. "They were wars of grief for many of us. Grief that they should have happened, grief that we should have to wage them, and grief that those we cared for, even loved, were killed by our hands."

"So you were not warriors, in of itself."

"Very few of us, who studied the Ashla and shunned the Bogan, cared for the martial discipline. None of us were fond of violence. A few of us, though, thought a calling to use the Ashla to master the discipline of warfare was a worthy calling. The Ashla might temper the inclination to misuse the martial skills, and the capacity to wage war might lend us enough strength to protect the world around us." She sighed. "We proved to be right, though none of us would have the heart to say so."

"The Bogan delights in the expression of emotion, particularly selfish ones. Those that practice it tend to justify taking what they want by the power they possess. They felt that inclination should not be interrupted. Ultimately, since we who practiced the Ashla felt differently, and said so, it came to war."

"Imagine wars commanded by sorcerers who could see the future, and watch the most minute aspects of a planet wide war from a single chair. Imagine every enemy you had could shape the will of the Bogan to show them how to kill you, with swords, bombs and blasters guided by a power more assured than tracking devices and optical telemetry. Now, add to this how most of your allies had never held a weapon before, and even as this war came about, still refused to kill." Tears welled in Pali's eyes. "To be hated by those who depended on your protection."

Taramon was silent for a long moment, as he slowed the ship. Lights were now visible at the end of the tunnel, and he turned off the search lights. "We Mandalorians fight for the joy of the conflict, and our capacity to grow strong with it. Our greatest delight is in finding an enemy so strong that we cannot win.

"I are not a warrior. Not in the way you Mandalorians are. It is grief that lets me cut down my enemies, sorrow that guides my hand." Pali explained.

"We're here." Taramon said. They stopped in a large hanger, where a dozen Mandalorians had guns trained on their speeder.

"What is this?" Taramon shouted, standing. He was careful, despite his incredulity, to keep his hands spread wide. "I checked in correctly, ahead of schedule. Explain yourselves."

"Under normal circumstances, you'd be dead already, Alturion." A harsh, raspy voice said, and a figure stepped out from the shadows. Like the others, this Mandalorian was covered in Durasteel armor, but the helmet was painted with two read lines that went over the eyepieces, and the chest-plate was painted blood red. "That prisoner is supposed to be tied, gagged, and sedated."

Taramon scowled, and said "The guest is Pali Trivish, a warrior of Tython, a field commander in its legendary war. She is here because of hostilities engaged against her by Clan Amdor, and carries great honor in our eyes."

The Spokesman took off his helmet, revealing a head of short cut, grey hair over a very scarred face. One of the eyes appeared to be a cybernetic implant. "You understand the implications, Alturion Taramon? And the consequences?" He asked.

"I do, General Barak." Taramon said with a sharp salute, his gauntlet clanging against his Durasteel armored chest.

"Good." He waved to the shadows, and two more soldiers stepped into the light. "See to the NEMA. And strip that speeder to see if there's anything in the databanks we can use to our advantage." He turned back to the other guards who still trained their weapons on the speeder. "Debrief the others, and take the prisoner to a holding cell. We'll start the soft interrogation in an hour."

"Soft interrogation?" Taramon asked.

"Having you speak for her has earned her enough honor that I'm not having her tortured on the spot. Did you expect more, Alturion?"

"Do I carry enough right to make a challenge?" Pali asked, slowly, and every eye in the room shifted to her.

"By combat?" General Barak asked, with an amused smirk.

"Yes. I wish to challenge my treatment as a foreigner and prisoner. I am a soldier, a veteran of many wars, and wish to be treated as such, with the rights and duties pertaining to a soldier allied to your cause." Pali said, carefully adding weight to her words. The Ashla carried their weight to every ear, and even the veteran, a seasoned commander, had trouble shrugging off the spell of her speech.

"What proof do you bring that you are allied to my cause?"

"I seek the destruction of the upstart masters of Clan Amdor, and the renegade of Tython that acts as their champion." Pali said.

"Why?" The general asked.

"The renegade is possessed by a power that has rendered him desirous of destruction, seeking dominion over what he can and oblivion for what he cannot. Clan Amdor has used Ion bombs against those who do not possess them, a crime I am keen to see punished."

"And the purpose of your challenge?"

"To earn honor enough in your eyes to be allowed to assist you, if your goals are similar to my own. I have been informed by the Alturion that they are."

General Barak nodded. "Agreed."

He turned to the soldiers around them. "Does anyone wish to answer that challenge? Does any soldier here wish to dispute the world of this foreign soldier, who's word has been upheld by the Alturion?"

"I do, General." One of them said.

"Then choose the battle."

"Swords and armor. No guns, no other weapons, particularly not whatever sorcerous powers she has." He said again.

"Swords and armor against a foreigner, unused to our gravity, without her own durasteel? A coward's choice." Estan said, loudly.

"It hardly matters." Pali said, gravely. "I can see the end of this duel come about a thousand different ways. They each end in his defeat."

Pali turned to the general, and asked "When does the duel end?"

"When one of you asks if the other yeilds, and the other either say yes, or fails to say no." The General noted.

"May I use my sword?" Pali asked, patting the short vibroblade strapped to her leg.

"As if a foreigner's sword could do a thing to our armor." The challenging soldier said. He stepped forward, and discarding his blaster, drew two long blades from the holsters on his back. "Can we do this now?"

Pali shook her head sadly. She drew her vibroblade and engaged it, finding a measure of comfort in its rhythmic humming. She stepped into a dueling stance, the blade pointed at her enemy's heart. "We begin the moment the General allows us to."

"You're pretty eager for someone who swings her sword by her grief." Taramon said.

"He won't die. Though he'll loose." Pali replied.

"He won't yeild." Taramon warned.

"He doesn't have to." Pali added, cryptically.

"Begin!" General Barak shouted, cutting the conversation short.

The Mandalorian rushed for her as soon as the general shouted, devouring the distance between them in a few quick heartbeats. Before many of those watching registered, one of his swords was sweeping in a long, backhanded arc towards her head.

Taramon watched, stunned, as Pali dodged the first, then the next few blows that the Mandalorian swung. He knew the warrior challenging Pali, though not by name. A man a few people had made tidy sums betting on in the dueling rings, who might have been the best sword fighter in the base. His swings were measured, trained to leave no real openings, and his two handed style was carefully measured so that each swing positioned him for the next.

Yet, from the way she dodged the first swing, tilting her head so that the blow passed within inches of her head, and moving her sword to block the thrust she knew was following, Taramon knew there was no bravado in her claims to victory. Her eyes didn't blink, she hardly moved, and despite only having a single, shorter weapon, no armor, and being quite a bit smaller than the Mandalorian warrior attacking her, she gave no ground.

Three swings passed into harmless air, and the fourth blow she caught by the arm before it descended. With a startling economy of motion, she stepped right up against him, too close for his other arm to swing a sword at her, and held her sword below his chin.

They both froze in place for a moment, before Pali asked "Do you yield?"

The warrior, despite the blade held to his throat, scoffed indignantly. "Of course not."

She stepped backwards just as quickly, just outside the reach of his sword, and smiled. He made no move to attack her, but readied his swords in a defensive stance.

"I sense no fear in you. It's what delayed me here, you know." Pali said, softly.

"What do you mean?" The warrior asked.

"When I came, the Ion bombs were being used. Warriors died by the tens of thousands, and I felt what they felt as they died, an echo the Asha carried to and beyond my ears."

"They felt no fear, as they died to those weapons. Resolve, and a little regret, but no fear."

The warrior paused for a long moment, and the discarded one of his swords. With his free hand, he took his helmet off. "What is your name?" He asked.

"I am Pali Trivish, practitioner of the Ashla, a soldier from Tython."

He saluted her, his helmet clanging against his durasteel chestplate. "Meturion of clan Gladia, Batim-Morsh. I lost good friends to those bombs. To hear they died without fear is," he paused. "I have no words for it."

He set his helmet, and gripping his sword with both hands, leveled the point straight towards her. "I hope you make use of the honor you earn today."

"Your cause has my loyalty. Till our victory, or my last breath." Pali replied.

Pali made the first move, darting forward and thrusting with her sword. He tapped the blade with his own, brushing it aside, and drew the sword back to make an overhead slice.

Pali, her actions guided by the Ashla, stepped just slightly to the right, and as the sword came down, flicked her sword in a sudden thrust.

The sword punched through Batim's armor, and through the arm, the blade protruding a full foot from the other side. Batim gasped in pain, and using his free arm, began to pull the blade back to swing at her.

Pali pushed hard on the sword, yanking it to her left and pulling the arm with it. Blinded by pain, he stumbled forward, barely catching himself before he toppled over.

Pali quickly let go of her sword, and grabbed the Mandalorian's helmet. She deftly yanked it off his head, and before he could recover, swung it hard into the back of his head. His eyes rolled up, his face went slack, and his armored body collapsed onto the floor.

Panting a little, Pali asked 'Do you yield?"

The general waited with crossed arms for a long moment, before raising a fist into the air. "Pali Trivish, soldier of Tython, you carry great honor in our eyes. You may remain among us, a trusted comrade, and carry your sword with pride."

"Alturion Taramon, when you defended her honor, did you know of her tale? How the warriors who fell to those Ion bombs felt no fear?" The General asked.

"I did, sir. And I believe her account of things." Taramon replied.

The General smiled softly, and in a voice too soft for the harsh, scarred soldier, asked "Miss Trivish, would you be willing to relay to some of us the entire story, of our comrades and what they felt at the end? I cannot describe how great an honor you would offer us, by doing this."

Pali returned that soft, sad smile. "It's a tale I'm happy to tell. I cannot know what your people will bring to the Galaxy in the coming centuries, but I cannot doubt its significance." She followed the General's gesture, and followed a soldier into a larger hall, where over the next few hours she would recount, as best she could, the fierce determination and grim, defiant calm that permeated the Ashla with the deaths of so many warriors of Mandalore.

Marius closed the book and set it down. "I think I'll stop there tonight. Any longer, and Thug won't know how it ends."

The others looked to Thug and grinned, as his head rested awkwardly on the wall, fast asleep.


	9. Chapter 6, The Boss

"There's another problem" Marius said, slowly, as a waiter laid a plate of marsh-lentils in front of them. "Beriven's at least as smart as I am."

The Boss nodded carefully, but still smiled. "True, and like you, he may figure out my plan, which could affect how he chooses to deal with Damos. How is this a problem for you?"

Marius swallowed a half-chewed lentil, and gasped for breath as he spoke. "You want trust from us. We don't demonstrate that just by appeasing a 'Don'."

The Boss smiled, and nodded. "That's a sensible assessment. It's also quite true." He turned to Gothe and added "How many people in this city do you think know that I'm the 'Don'?"

Gothe smiled. "Less than thirty."

"Counting our young friend here, it's twenty-six. Seventeen of whom are in this room. You and your friends are privy to my very valuable anonymity. It's a secret more valuable, at the moment, than the lives of nine orphans."

"Nine?" Marius exclaimed. "There's only eight of us. The only reason Damos would know who you are is if you told him."

The Boss and Gothe looked at each other meaningfully for a long moment. "You can trust him, at least." Gothe said.

"What?" Marius asked, confused.

"Your reaction, obviously." Gothe explained. "Your first reaction, to a death threat from the Boss of Vos Ma'ar, is to try and save someone else. Even someone you don't know, or have any reason to care for."

"Don't feel bad." Gothe added, as Marius stared down at the floor. "Under the circumstances, it's the best thing you could have said."

Marius' gaze flickered to the Boss, who nodded slowly in agreement, the ghost of a smile painting his lips.

"How long have you all been clean?" The Boss asked. "I've noticed that you all took to it fairly quickly. Thema and Bug's employer, when he first met the three of you, mentioned that he couldn't tell at first that you were orphans."

"We've been bathing regularly since we first found those two jobs. We're saving up for a moisture collector so we can stop using the creek on the outskirts."

"Prudent. But how did you know a moisture collector could be converted into a shower?" The Boss asked.

"We asked the guy at the hardware store. He said that he'd help us install it as soon as we saved up enough. He said it wouldn't get more than a couple of showers a day. But it's the cheapest option that's like to keep working." Marius explained. "We figured that getting everyone a shower every four days would more than do the trick."

"How are you getting laundry done?" Gothe asked.

"The river. An old ribbed table made into a washboard. Some soap when we need to." Marius shrugged. "The kitchen stays warm enough to dry it all, even with this cold."

"It sounds like you have the basics covered."

"I'm hoping so. We're lucky Tha'varr knows how to cook."

"The Alien? I'm surprised you kept her. More that none of you picked up the prejudices in the city." Gothe pointed out. The boss smiled a little in agreement.

"My parents didn't think much of discrimination. I guess it's where I got it from." Marius shrugged. "Besides, she joined the group before I did."

The Boss looked at Marius intently. "What's your last name?"

"Altaire." Marius responded, hesitantly.

Gothe and the Boss exchanged a long, serious look.

* * *

"Toss that up!" Beriven said, from the top of the ladder.

Thug nodded and threw up a small bundle, letting it arc so that it just barely reached Beriven's outstretched hands. He smiled and chucked it to the side, and held out his hands again.

"Throw it harder this time, you little girl." Beriven said.

Thug scowled and glared at Beriven for a moment, before picking up the other bundle and lobbing it hard at Beriven.

Beriven gave up trying to catch it and ducked behind the ledge, as the bundle flew over his head and skidded across the rooftop.

"That any better, Berry?" Thug asked, as he started climbing the ladder.

"Yeah. Getting pegged in the head by a sleeping bag is way better than falling down that ledge." Beriven admitted. "So we'll start watching the south end. It's the best way to get here from the high roads. We'll do it in fifteen minute swaps."

"What do we do if we spot him?"

"That depends. If he approaches, we let him inside. If he doesn't, we have to sneak up and corner him." Beriven replied.

"Why, Berry?" Thug asked.

"Because if he decides he wants to go tell other orphans about us, we have to be able to stop him." Berry insisted.

"What do you think we're going to do, Berry? We're not killers!" Thug exclaimed.

"Of course not. But if he runs away before we get him on side, this life we have is over! Dead and gone, Thug!" Beriven hissed. "Do you want to be back on the streets, digging through garbage, begging and stealing?"

"Hell no." Thug said breathlessly.

"Then we have to do whatever it takes, Thug. I'll kill him if it keeps us safe." Beriven insisted.

"Berry..." Thug whispered, worried.

"He has to know we're serious, Thug. This isn't a kid's game. This is our life, our home, that he's threatening."

"I know." Thug said. "But I don't have to like it."

They sat in silence a little while longer, watching the unmoving shadows beyond the other rooftops for any sign of movement.

The night air was cold, bitterly so, and Thug was grateful for the sleeping bag that kept him warm.

"I'm glad Merry isn't here right now. He'd raise a stink about this like no one else." Beriven admitted.

"Have we talked about what we're doing with him?" Thug asked.

"Merry and Mystery were talking. They should come up with something we can use as a carrot." Beriven replied.

"I hope so. Because I don't like this." Thug said.

"Neither do I. Someone knows a great deal about us, enough to tip this Damos off. And if Marius is right about who he is, this could be more trouble than we can handle." Beriven agreed.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we might have ticked off the Boss."

The blood in Thug's face fled.

"You think this is because we lied to his thugs?" Thug asked, after a moment.

"I don't know." Beriven admitted. "There's a bunch of things that don't make sense, and I need my hands on Damos to answer them. We have to get him Thug, one way or another."

Thug reluctantly nodded.

* * *

Marius stared sharply between the two men, blood rushing through his ears as he clenched the edge of the table.

"You knew my parents?"

The Boss nodded to Gothe and leaned back. "We did, son." Gothe started, a hitch in his voice. "I was rather fond of them. Had a crush on your mother a few years before you were born. Loosing her to a farmer rubs my sensibilities the wrong way."

"He was your father's best man." The Boss added, with a grin. "I didn't know either of them very well. We did business together, but not much more."

"Gizka barf." Gothe scathed. "There were a dozen farms closer than theirs, and most of them offered cheaper produce."

"With child labour. I didn't wage a war against that kind of scum just so I could sponsor it outside the city." The Boss insisted.

"I've never understood morality from you. You run a crime syndicate. How do you send your thugs for protection payments from the city, and still justify that sort of moral boundary?" Gothe asked.

"The Boss protects his city." Marius said, softy. "Anyone who pays for protection gets it. Asides from having your pockets picked by an orphan, no one will kick in your doors or beat you senseless on the streets. Everyone knows it. It's why we can steal and beg in this city, because everyone's kept safe."

"Do people choose wether or not they pay for your protection?" Gothe asked.

"Of course not. Everyone's taxed, and everyone pays. Though no one pays what they can't afford." The Boss replied.

"Why is that?"

"Because killing a cow for a cup of milk wastes the barrel it will produce next year." The Boss explained.

"I suppose you send an accountant with your thugs?" Gothe asked.

"Of course." The Boss replied.

"Wait, when did you start your war against the slavery syndicates?" Marius asked.

"Around three years ago." The Boss replied.

"Did they ever try to force your hand by monopolizing an industry? You said there were lots of farmers that you weren't buying from, because they used child slaves." Marius asked.

The Boss scowled. "You're almost too clever, Marius."

"So my parents were murdered by slavers, who were prompted to kill them by your war against them." Marius said, slowly.

"They were. I'm sorry for that." The Boss said.

"How was it your fault?" Marius asked, quickly.

"If I hadn't started this war, your parents wouldn't have been attacked." The Boss replied. "They wouldn't have died."

"I don't get why you say that." Marius insisted. "You didn't order the attack, you didn't commit the crime. Those slavers did it."

The Boss sighed. "I see that childishness in you at last. I was beginning to wonder." He paused, staring at the table for a long moment, before speaking again. "It's the guilt of command, of influence. When your actions have widespread consequence, you need to choose what you do, or tell others to do, extremely carefully. I chose to crush the slave trade, which prompted them to fight back. As a tactic, they saw an advantage in killing your parents, and a few other farmers who were not benefiting the slave trade. A tactic chosen out of necessity, the necessity of fighting the war I initiated."

"In that, I am guilty of prompting them to find advantage in killing your parents. I am also guilty of not having foreseen that, and protecting them."

Marius shook his head almost immediately, muttering 'no no no'.

"It's true. Ultimately, they died because I started a war."

Again, Marius fiercely shook his head. "No, sir. They died because someone chose to kill them." Marius responded finally, his brow wrinkling as he stared hard at the Don of Vos Ma'ar. "You're not, what's the word, omnipotent. You're not responsible for someone else's decisions."

Gothe's eyes went wide, and the Boss nodded softly, solemnly. "I apologize, for calling that comment childish. Though I suggest we bring this up again, if you ever end up in command. If you cannot bear responsibility for your subordinates, you should not be ordering them."

"Who said that?" Gothe asked.

"Martiam Verre." The Boss replied. He looked over at Marius, and added "The Lord Iniquitus' chief General during the conquest of the City States, and afterwards during the final War with the Thousand Year Emperor.

"You knew General Verre?" Gothe exclaimed.

The Boss nodded, solemnly.

"More shocks tonight then in a case of Antilian Gin." Gothe muttered to himself.

* * *

"Is this kid ever going to show?" Thug asked, after fidgeting again from his perch on the ledge. "I swear it's been seven hours."

"This is your third watch, Thug. We only do fifteen minute shifts. Since I did the first watch, it means we haven't done an hour and a half yet."

"Well it feels like seven hours." Thug insisted, though without quite as much conviction. "Do you think he'll even come?"

"Oh, I know it." Beriven said, smugly.

"How do you know that?" Thug asked, bemused.

"Because if you were doing your job right now, you'd know it too." Beriven said, pointing to a rooftop a few buildings away.

"What? No one's there." Thug exclaimed.

"No, the building after that one. There's a small shape on the left side of the building."

"You can see that far?" Thug said, his eyes wide. "That's nuts, Berry."

"I can't tell that it's him, it's just this grey fuzzy cloud. It's almost not seeing, but knowing that something's there. Except that I know I'm looking, rather than thinking. It's hard to explain."

"You're crazy, you know." Thug said, lamely.

"Just watch. You should see him step into the light at the end of the building now." Beriven insisted.

They watched for a moment, as a shadow suddenly stepped into the lights along the edge of the roof. The shape was hardly taller than the railings around the building, which they knew were about the height of a small child.

"That'll be him." Beriven said smugly.

"You're still crazy, Berry." Thug insisted.

Beriven shrugged, as Thug wormed himself down from his perch. The two boys climbed along the roof, careful to avoid the light.

The boys crept towards a small piece of metal tubing that extended between the warehouses. As they got close, Beriven held his hand out with the palm straight up, pointing to the ledge with his other hand.

Thug nodded, and moved to one side.

Both boys crouched, and slipped into silent impatience as they struggled to hear over their own pounding hearts. Thug was visibly shaking as he hid, and he held on to the ledge with a grip that left his knuckles white.

Beriven had wore a fierce, predatory grin on his face, and the excitement left him only a heartbeat away from leaping out.

Despite this, the boys waited silently as Damos slowly crawled onto the roof, and stood up. He had enough time to take two slow, quiet steps.

Thug was on him almost instantly, with a leaping tackle that took the smaller boy completely unawares. Damos was knocked off his feet, and skidded along the roof, Thug on top him.

Beriven leapt into the fray, forcing Damos back down as he tried to push himself away from Thug. Damos reached for Thug's face, trying to jab him in the eye with a finger, but Thug rolled away quickly. Beriven was quick to use the opening, putting his knee against Damos' exposed throat, and rested his other foot on top of his victim's left arm. Thug joined in pinning him in place, and after a few futile attempts, Damos stopped struggling.

"What are you doing?" Damos rasped, his breathing labored.

"That's my question." Beriven said in response. He eased some weight off of Damos' throat, and let him take a few deep breaths. "What are you doing out here?"

"Whatever I like. What's it to you?" Damos said, the anger making his voice quake. "No one mugs people in this city. The Boss will kill you all for this."

"Not if I just toss you off the roof right now." Beriven said quickly. The predatory grin he had been wearing reached his eyes as he spoke.

"Besides, we're just protecting ourselves from some dirty orphan thief." Thug added, though as he spoke, Beriven looked at him sharply.

"Five months ago, Thug, we weren't any different." Beriven said, softly. He looked surprised as he spoke, as if just realizing the truth of it himself. He fell backwards, off of Damos entirely. Thug, looking confused, followed suit.

"Ah, gizka barf, I'm an idiot." Beriven muttered to himself. He shook his head and pointed at Damos. "I'm sorry. You can stand up, if you like. We won't do that again."

"Berry..." Thug started, staring at Beriven intently.

"I just realised something, Thug." Beriven said, softly. Damos stared intently, and Thug looked as if Beriven had just grown a foot.

"Virtue is made in community." Beriven said, wistfully staring out into the night.

* * *

"Think for a moment, about how well you know Beriven. What do you think he will do with Damos?" The Boss asked.

Marius paused and took a deep breath. "He'll probably take Thug up to the roof, and catch him. Berry takes threats seriously. After that, if he can't threaten Damos into silence, well, I hope he takes him inside and talks to Mystery. I really don't know what he'll do otherwise."

"If I told you Beriven has killed before? Would that change your answer?" The Boss asked.

"What?" Marius asked, his jaw slack and his eyes wide.

"The details of it aren't for me to relate. If you can, you should avoid treating Beriven as if you knew this. If it weren't so important to your situation, I wouldn't mention it." The Boss explained, slowly.

Marius stared at the floor for a moment, before nodding. "Okay. It does."

"How so?"

"He'd kill him, if he thinks he doesn't have another option. Knowing Berry, he'd send Thug down from the roof, probably to go get Mystery, and then throw Damos over the ledge." Marius shook himself, and said "He'd tell the others that Damos broke free, ran for it, and slipped. They'd believe it, and Berry would just shoulder the guilt. He's like that."

"Would he feel guilt?" The Boss asked, quietly. He leaned forward as he spoke, and the unusual interest he displayed put Marius on guard.

"Yeah, he would." Marius said, fiercely.

"So here comes the million cubit question. Knowing all of this, do you want to run back and try to save Damos? You might be able to save a life, and spare your friends the worst of my wraith, if you do."

Marius thought for a moment, then grinned back at the Don of Vos Ma'ar. "No."

Gothe grinned, and the Boss raised an eyebrow.

"You're not worried about them?"

"Nope." Marius said, a wide smile on his face. "If Berry's ever killed before, he must have had a reason for it. He isn't sick, after all. He's kind, and he cares about his friends. Enough that he'd kill someone to keep us safe, if he had to. But he doesn't, and he and the rest of us know it."

Marius held up a hand for a moment, and added "In fact, if he could, he'd help Damos. We all would. And I think you'll believe it, when they prove to you that they aren't willing to kill him."

"Damos won't just knock on the front door and ask." The Boss replied, after a moment. "He'll sneak, and try to look at what you all have. If you catch him that way, are you sure your friends won't do something reckless?"

"I trust them. Besides, we're clean and fed. We're less desperate than we used to be. We're less inclined to lash out at something we're afraid of."

The Boss smiled. "We'll see."

* * *

"What the hell does that mean?" Thug asked.

"It means people aren't born nice, Thug. Well, a few people are. I bet Merry was. But most people become nice because it's the way they were taught. Most people are cowards, but learn how to be brave. Most people are stupid, but learn how to be smart." Beriven explained.

"What does that have to do with anything, Berry?" Thug asked, confused and more than a little irritated.

"Nothing and everything." Beriven answered. "But it does mean that we shouldn't throw Damos off the roof just because he scared us." He turned to Damos "do you want some dinner?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Damos took it and stood up. "I'd love some." He said gratefully. The two of them turned and walked back inside.

Thug followed behind them, with a bemused grin on his face.


	10. Chapter 7, On a Dark and Stormy Night

Marius returned that same night, about an hour after dinner. Though the others would ask, insistently, where he had been, Marius refused to answer. He would shake his head, hold up his hands, and cryptically say "I was out."

Beriven and Mystery, unconvinced, cornered him shortly other the others had gone to bed.

"You saw the Boss." Beriven said. Mystery looked over to him with a shocked expression on his face, and then stared at Marius, stunned.

Marius nodded, slowly.

"Was it a test? Throwing Damos at us like that?" Beriven asked.

Marius nodded again, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"You don't look like we passed." Mystery said, after a moment.

Marius' expression changed quickly. His eyes widened, and he stood straight, waving his hands apologetically. "No no. The Boss should be happy."

"What did the Boss want us to prove, Merry?" Beriven asked.

Marius sat down at their makeshift table, and rested his arms against it. "The Boss wants to know if he can use us. He wants to get the orphans of Vos Ma'ar off the streets, because we're all starting to annoy him."

"As the orphans get older, they get bolder." Mystery said, quietly. Marius and Beriven regarded him for a moment, then both nodded.

"Instead of skivving from dumpsters and begging, we steal and mug people. Break into homes." Marius said. "The protection tax isn't buying the city what it used to, and people get angry. Then the boss would have to step in. Which as he said, would either involve having us thrown out of the city, or killed."

"So how does this affect us?" Beriven asked.

"As our protection tax, he wants us to start integrating the orphans into the city. Find them work, educate them when and where we can, teach them how to take care of themselves. He wants them well enough off that he can punish them individually if they step out of line." Marius said.

"What does he mean by that, punish them individually?" Beriven asked, perplexed.

"He said that street kids aren't recognized. But if they have jobs, become part of the community, and commit crimes, he can isolate who does it and deal with them."

"Oh. So he actually provides protection for his protection tax?" Beriven asked, bemused. "Weird. Did he say he would help us get set up?"

"He wants to see what we come up with, first." Marius replied.

"Ah." Mystery said, and both boys turned to him. "This means we're going to need to tell Anita to stay on job-hunting. And the two of you," Mystery pointed at Beriven and Marius. "Need to get what you need to start a school."

"What? We can't run a class." Beriven said.

"You can read, and Merry has already started teaching Thema and Bug. You two are the only option."

"Why do we need to teach them how to read?" Marius asked. "Don't we need to find them jobs and get them a place to live?"

"They have to learn, if they want to have a future." Mystery insisted. "Even as an orphan, someone who can read is worth a lot more than someone who can't."

"He's serious, Merry." Beriven answered. "There isn't a lot of work out there if you can't read."

"So I guess we need to set up a school then, huh?" Marius asked.

"We don't need to. But we should." Mystery said,

"Agreed." Beriven nodded. "We do it properly, or we don't waste our time."

"Profound." Marius said, with an awed voice as he rolled his eyes.

"Sarcastic." Beriven countered.

"Anyway, where are we going to set up a school? It's not like we make enough money to rent a building from someone." Marius asked.

"We're sitting in our answer." Mystery said.

Both boys stared at him in confusion.

"Do we pay rent here?" Mystery asked, as an explanation.

Their slack, confused expressions shifted, at the exact same time, into startled recognition. "I get it!" Beriven exclaimed. "We don't pay rent here, either. I can't believe we didn't think of that right away." He added, looking at Marius.

"Great minds think alike." Marius shrugged.

"And fools seldom differ." Mystery added. "We should start close to home."

"Nearby warehouses, huh? I thought we grabbed this one because it was the only one that wasn't being used or full of stuff." Beriven said.

"It's why I picked this one." Marius admitted. "But I wasn't thorough. I just grabbed the first abandoned one I could find. I stopped looking after that point."

"Well, we probably weren't the only ones to come up with the idea, so no one should do this alone." Beriven said. "I'll take Thug and Thema, we all share the same days off. We should be able to find something fairly quickly, but I don't know what kind of condition it will be in."

Mystery nodded in assent.

"What kind of things should we get for a classroom? Marius asked. "I mean, paper's all well and good, but we'll go through a lot of it teaching kinds how to write."

"I thought we were teaching them how to read?" Mystery noted.

"It's the same thing." Marius replied. "I was thinking of something like a memory film screen, something we can keep re-using."

"That's expensive, isn't it?"

"It'd cost less than the tonne of paper we're going to use if I'm teaching a dozen kids to write." Marius said. "Not to mention it saves on pencils."

"Which we need more of, by the way." Beriven said. "This is our last one." He added, holding up a short stub.

"I thought I put it on the last list." Marius said, musing.

"You did. Bug just didn't recognize 'pencil'." Beriven replied.

"Oops." Marius admitted, shaking his head.

"Memory film, were you thinking of a big one, or a bunch of small ones?" Beriven asked.

"Both, hopefully." Marius said. "It depends on what we can find cheap."

"Or free." Beriven added. "You know, I think we should have two levels for reading. Basic and advanced, you know?"

"What's the difference?" Marius asked. "You can either read, or you can't."

"No no. There's reading signs, and there's real reading. Like reading books and stories. We really should do both." Beriven insisted.

Though Mystery sat through the entire conversation, which carried long hours into the night, he didn't contribute another word to the conversation. The knowing smile never left his lips, even as fatigue eventually dulled their enthusiasm, and sleep overtook the pace of their planning.

* * *

The next evening brought some of the heaviest, darkest clouds the city of Vos Ma'ar had seen in anyone's memory. Stormclouds brought thunder and fierce winds, and though the warehouse guarding the Lucky Orphans was well prepared to endure the storm, the largely untested courage of the children inside was not.

"Ah!" Bug screamed, as something heavy rattled against the roof.

"I think it's just a tree branch, Bug." Beriven said, holding a hand against the youngest boy's shoulder. Bug shuddered involuntarily, but said nothing in response.

"Is it? You sure it's not someone's roof?"

"We'd be able to tell." Anita said, half-heartedly.

"How?" Bug asked.

"It'd be louder." Beriven assured him.

Something else hammered against the roof, louder than before. The noise was loud enough to cause the cups on the shelf to rattle in place, and cause the children to cover their ears.

"Was that someone's roof?" Bug shrieked, barely hearing his own voice.

"Sounds like." Thema agreed, looking nervously towards the source of the noise. "Do you think our roof is okay?"

"I'll go check." Marius said, slithering out of his sleeping bag and groping for his socks.

"Anita and I should go with you." Thug said.

"Use a rope. There's a bunch of it in the supply room. Tie one end to Anita, and tie the other end to the support beams near the causeway." Beriven said.

"Good idea." Marius admitted. "You okay with that?"

"It's fine." Anita said. "But you all owe me a hot shower sometime soon."

"As soon as we get hot water." Beriven said. Mystery shook his head sadly at that, but didn't volunteer anything else.

The three of them stepped away and out of the room.

"Berry?" Tha'varr asked, quietly. She had to ask twice to be heard over the rain.

"Yeah?

"I have tea. I found a patch of fitch-lin bushes a few weeks ago, and wanted to save it. But if they're going to be out in the rain..." Tha'varr started.

Beriven rolled in his sleeping bag until he was next to her. "You like him, huh?" He whispered. The words barely carried past his own lips, with the roar of the weather around them.

"What?" Tha'varr exclaimed, loudly.

"Merry, you like him." Beriven repeated, just as quietly as before.

"No. Stop saying stupid things." She insisted, harshly.

"Hey, I think it's cute. Though I really don't know what the babies are gonna look like." Beriven added.

Tha'varr, despite being wrapped up in her sleeping bag, rolled around and slugged Beriven in the shoulder.

The blow was hard enough to be heard over the rain, and Beriven winced in pain as he rolled away.

Despite the pain, the grin never left Beriven's face. "Good hit." He said.

He rolled out of the sleeping bag, and added "I think the tea would be nice. They'll be pretty cold when they get back inside."

Tha'varr grimaced, and said "Sorry, Berry."

"Don't be." He said. "I earned it." He frowned, then looked out the window towards the far end of the warehouse. "That's odd."

"What?" Tha'varr asked.

"I didn't think they'd come back in through the front door." He answered.

* * *

It surprised the two boys, to see how well built their warehouse was. The clamor of the rain and small sticks that bounced against the reinforced building were quite loud for a small child listening carefully for noises, but compared to the deafening downpour that splattered noisily against metal and concrete, it was quiet and peaceful.

"Do you see anything?" Thug shouted into the distance, to the barely discernible figure of Anita as she hopped along the roof. The rope, tied to her waist with a makeshift harness, was drawn almost taunt, their only clue that she was still upright and moving.

"What?" Marius asked, despite standing barely two feet away.

Thug turned to him and grinned, a smile that Marius returned.

"What the hell are we doing out here, Merry?" Thug asked.

"That big crash, we're checking to make sure it didn't do any damage." Marius responded, giving the rope one quick tug.

After a moment, there was a single tug from the other end.

"Nothing yet." Marius told Thug.

They waited in silence a while longer, as the rope slowly turned another few degrees. Anita was now completely hidden by the driving rain, not even a slightly darker silhouette against the damp dark.

"Do we have anything warm in the kitchen?" Thug asked.

"What, like that cocoa stuff from Courescant?" Marius asked in turn.

"No, I was thinking more like soup. A fire and a bath would be nice, too." Thug mused.

"Stop talking. It's hard enough to stay out here." Marius admitted.

"Right." Thug said, staring off into the distance.

The rope tugged once, softly, and turned another few degrees.

Marius leaned over the railing a little, and asked "This roof is pretty solid, huh?"

"Yeah. It's inch thick metal panels over top of wood and steel reinforced concrete." Thug explained.

"Why do you know so much about it?" Marius asked.

"They teach it to me at the spaceport. They want me to learn how to create mixtures to make buildings. There's a guy who says he can teach me how to make durasteel."

"Really?" Marius asked. He whistled into the distance. "That's huge. A real future, you know?"

"Yeah. But I owe it to all of us."

"So this roof can easily handle this weather, huh?" Marius asked. Thug looked a little hurt, it seemed that there was something else he wanted to talk about.

"Well, yeah. I think it's meant to handle a lot worse." Thug admitted.

"And these other warehouses were made the same way, huh?" Marius asked.

"Yeah." Thug said.

"So it wasn't a piece of another warehouse that hit the roof." Marius said, softly. Thug's eyes narrowed in thought for a moment.

"Probably not." He concluded.

"So what hit the roof?" Marius asked, looking at Thug seriously.

Thug's expression was one of sudden, fearful confusion.

* * *

Beriven slid out of his sleeping bag and stood up, staring out the window.

"What are you worried about? It's just them, isn't it?" Tha'varr asked.

"Kill the lights, quick!" Beriven rasped, scrambling to the doorway and latching it shut. He started to pull one of the tables in front of the door as the others gathered.

"Isn't it just the others?" Thema asked.

"Not unless they all used the rope to climb down the building. We took out the ladder after Damos." Beriven said. "Quickly, everyone, find every other entrance and lock them."

The others scattered, Bug and Thema moving first towards the smaller rooms in the bottom floor. Mystery went to the smaller offices, and Tha'varr moved to follow.

"No. Thav'arr, go find Merry. Let him know what's going on."

"Where are you going?" She asked in response. Beriven was moving to the cold storage in the back, already fiddling with the latches.

"Weapons. I've stashed some clubs, and an Ion cutter in here." Beriven explained.

Tha'varr nodded, and started running towards the roof.

She could hear heavy breathing, and footsteps, up ahead. She covered her mouth to keep quiet, and turned to look for a hiding place.

With a startling click, the lights suddenly went out.

In the dark, two very strong hands grabbed her. A hand fell over her own, stifling her scream, and she was picked off the ground. She kicked and flailed, until she was swung suddenly to the side. She hit something hard, and her thoughts fell silent.

* * *

The roof lights went out suddenly, just as they finished pulling Anita back up and over the railing.

"Anything at all?" Marius asked, shouting over the rain. Over the last few minutes, it had started again with an intensity that threatened to deafen the three children.

"Nothing. No pieces missing, not even a dent." Anita said. "Can we go inside? I can't see a thing out here anymore, and I'm cold."

Marius nodded, and turned to Thug as he let Anita by. "Why did the lights go out?" Thug asked. "Is the roof leaking?"

"Anita didn't see anything, and the circuit box is in the basement. All the lights went out at the same time, so it's not just one wet light."

"Someone shut them down at the circuit box?" Thug asked.

Anita opened the door, which was just as dark as the sky outside.

"Merry, I thought I left the lights on!" Anita exclaimed. "Sorry!"

"Funny, I thought she did, too." Thug muttered, following inside after her.

Marius grabbed Thug by the shoulder and pulled to spin him around. In a quiet voice, barely heard over the rain, he said "She did."

"So the power's out." Thug said.

"No. Someone turned it off." Marius replied, shaking his head. "This isn't good, Thug." He added. His face was pale, suddenly loosing the red he had carried in the cold.

"You're paranoid, Merry." Thug said. "We just lost the power in this old warehouse, that's all."

Marius shook his head. "Humor me." A little louder, he said "Anita, be careful."

"Of course." She replied, starting down the service ladder.

"Hey, the lights are out down here, too. There's a little light, though." She said, talking just loud enough for Thug to hear at the top of the ladder.

"The emergency lights." Thug said thoughtfully.

"Let's head down." Marius said. "No one uses the circuit box to turn off the lights. I think there's someone else here."

"I think you're right." Thug agreed, starting down the ladder.

Thug was only halfway down, and Merry had just put his foot on the top rung, when Anita let out a scream. They could hear scuffling, and Marius heard a sudden thud.

Afraid suddenly, he saw the last noise came from Thug, who had leapt from the ladder and was scrambling in the dark after them. Anita screamed again, and the sound of heavy blows seemed to echo in the corridor.

The lights came back on as Marius scrambled to the bottom of the ladder, and he saw Thug grappling with someone at least a head taller than him. Another had Anita pinned to the floor, and was shouting at his companion to hurry.

"Why the hell are the lights back on?" The one holding Anita down said, staring over at Thug. He didn't turn his head back in time, as Mariu's foot connected with his head.

He rolled on the ground and looked back, glaring at Marius and reaching into a pocket. Anita threw herself after him, her hands darting towards his eyes. "Anita, he has a weapon!"

She ignored him, and her thumb connected sharply with his left eye. He cursed and threw his head backwards, his eyes clutching his face and the thing he grabbed from his pocket clattering to the floor.

Marius scrambled for it before he saw what it was, and only stopped to look at it once he had it in his hands.

"Merry, go help Thug!" Anita shouted.

Marius suddenly knew what he held.

A short vibroblade.

He stepped over to Thug quickly and pressed the blade against his attacker's throat, who suddenly went limp.

"Shit! Don't kid!" He screamed, pressing his head as far away from the knife's edge as he could.

Marius backed him into the wall, the edge pressed just slightly into his neck. The only sounds that could still be heard were the screams of the attacker Anita had wounded.

"Thug, keep the other guy down. Hit him if you need to." Marius said.

Almost immediately, he heard a hard thump, and the screaming suddenly stopped. Marius turned back to the man at knifepoint, and asked "What are you doing here?"

"Blast it, kid! We were just here to rob you!" He responded quickly, still quivering from the knife at his throat.

Marius saw, in his mind, a red flash pass right through where his head was. Not understanding, but on reflex, he threw his head backwards and let himself fall to the floor. He hadn't even hit the ground, as he saw a sudden, brilliant flash of red light.

When he hit the ground, he looked around wildly to see everyone else staring down the corridor. Following their eyes, he looked to see the sihouette of one more person, wearing a heavy cloak, with a shiny piece of metal in one hand, pointed straight at the spot where his head used to be.

"Those are some slick reflexes, kid." The figure said, stepping into the light. He looked to be only a few years older than any of Marius' friends, but the scars running under his eyes, and the eyes themselves, looked like they belonged to a much older person.

"But you shouldn't keep trusting your luck. Like my associate here said, we're just here to rob you. Tell us where you keep your cash, let us lock you in a closet or something, and we'll let you live."

"Merry, this is bad." Thug said. He shivered, and took a slow step backwards, stepping in front of Anita.

"Why should we believe you?" Marius asked.

"Because it's your best chance at living." The older boy replied. "You resist, and I just shoot you. I'd rather not, because it's a pain in the ass to recharge this thing. Which is why I'm making the offer."

Marius nodded. "We'll do as you say. If it gets you out of here faster, we'll take you to the money." He dropped the vibroblade to the floor, and stepped away from it.

The other boy snatched it up, and glared at Marius.

Marius dropped and rolled away as the other boy swung, and managed to scramble a few steps away before his attacker recovered.

"Leave it. If we start knifing the kids, this will take longer." He said. "Your pride isn't worth shit until we get some actual money."

"We've gotta get rid of the girl, at least. She put her thumb through Monkey's eye." The other boy replied, pointing his companion lying unconscious on the floor.

"What happened?" The boy with the gun asked, not stepping forward.

"She managed to get loose and attacked him. She got him in the eye before he could pull out his knife."

"Fuck!" The boy with the gun shouted. "This was supposed to be quick in and out. We cut the power, and round them all up before their eyes adjust to the darkness. That was the fucking plan, not for you morons to go and get diced up by kids!"

The boy with the gun fumed for a moment, and eventually, in a deathly quiet voice, said "We're going to go to the room with your sleeping bags, It's where we're keeping your other friends. I'll decide what to do with you there."

"But what about Monkey! Look at him, look at his eye! Are you really gonna let those kids get away with this?" His companion asked, indignant.

"We can't risk being here too long. If they tell us where the money is, we can still be out of the city before dawn." The boy with the run replied, though his voice sounded hesitant.

"So let's just start cutting her up till she talks." The other boy replied, flicking the vibroblade out. "Then we kill her."

"You really up for that?" The boy with the gun asked. He sounded a little sick.

"For Monkey's eye? I'll carve their gonads out and feed it to them." The other boy replied.

"Patch up Monkey. I'll take these damn kids to their friends, and I'll think of what to do with them from there."

"Sure. We'll kill them all there." He replied. Marius waved to his friends, and they stepped away from the boy named Monkey, putting as much distance from his knife-wielding friend as they could.

"This isn't worth a hundred Ducats." The boy with the gun muttered to himself, putting himself between his companions and Marius. "You," he said sharply, pointing the blaster to Marius. "The situation changed. Not all of you are going to live. But if you get me at least a hundred Ducats, only she will die." He finished, pointing the gun towards Anita. "Two hundred, and I might be able to get away with just a blaster shot to the leg, and a missing eye. Think about it, while we walk."

Marius nodded, and the three of them started walking slowly, followed carefully by the boy with the gun.

"Fuck, this didn't go well." The boy with the gun muttered to himself.

"It'll go worse, if you kill any of us. We pay the protection tax, you know." Marius added.

The boy with the gun looked harshly at Marius for a moment, trying to make up his mind about something. "You're full of it, kid." He eventually finished.

"I'm serious. Deadly serious. Rob us, and the Boss may not kill you when he catches up to you. Especially if he finds out you took injuries and still spared us. Kill any of us, though, and he'll string you up in the market square. You know how it goes. It's why us orphans never do things like this!" Marius insisted.

"You're a smooth talker, but I can smell the bullshit." The boy with the gun replied, though he sounded uncertain.

"If you thought we have the kind of money to make us worth robbing, why wouldn't we pay the protection tax?" Marius asked.

His words stopped the boy, and the gun was now pointed to the ground. "Fuck, shut the hell up kid."

He followed them in silence for a moment, and said "Well, you make a good point, so we'll let the money you get for us decide. If we get a good load, it means you pay the protection tax, and we'll make a run for it. If we don't, it means we're free to kill your cute little friend, and you too, for good measure."

* * *

The children were gathered in the large office they used as a bedroom, with three of their attackers set on the outside of the door. With only a single entrance, and two large observation windows, meant that once corralled, the group was easy to keep inside.

"Where's Berry?" Thema whispered. Marius could barely hear it, even though her mouth was almost touching his ear.

Marius shrugged in answer, at which Thema smiled.

Marius turned to Mystery and Bug, who were busy nursing Tha'varr. She had a nasty looking wound on her head, which they were taking turns holding closed with dish towels.

He walked over to them, and took the rags from Bug, who looked over to him and tried to smile. "She should be okay. Mystery said head wounds just bleed a lot."

"Good." Marius said, softly. "Okay, how much money do we have right now?"

"Fifty three Ducats." Mystery said.

"That's a lot." Marius replied, a little louder.

"We were saving for things, then the emergency, and now the school. Besides, it's right after payday for a lot of us." Bug said. "And the grocery budget is still here."

"Okay. Fifty three ducats might do it, but I'm honestly not sure. I was talking with the guy I think is their leader. I have him convinced that we might be paying the protection tax. He needs to see a certain amount of money to believe me, or else we obviously don't have money to pay the boss." Marius explained.

"Doesn't he know that everyone under 19 is exempt?" Bug asked.

"How did you find out about that?" Marius asked in turn.

"Well, Mr. Eston told me, first day on the job." Bug replied.

"If you hadn't found a job, you wouldn't have known. So I don't think he does, either." Marius lowered his voice again, and said "Anita's life depends on this working. She injured one of them defending us. Gouged out his eye. Unless they think they're in more danger by hurting or killing us, they'll kill her."

They all turned to Anita, who sat in a corner with a kitchen rag, wiping her thumb periodically. She shook, quietly, and shuddered a little despite how warm it was inside.

"So Bug, if you, Thema, Thug or Beriven have anything else stashed away personally, crack it out now. We might need it."

Bug nodded fiercely, and Mystery smiled despite the black eye he now sported. Marius walked away from them and towards Anita, who's hands had started shaking badly, and was now gripping the dish rag hard enough to rip it a little.

"We'll get out of this okay, Anita."

She looked at him strangely, and said "I hurt someone, Merry."

"You did. It was really brave." Marius admitted.

"And I'm gonna die, aren't I? That guy I hurt is one of them, and they'll want revenge. Are they gonna hurt me first, Merry?"

"No." Marius insisted. "And they won't kill you."

"You can't know that." Anita said.

"No, I can't." He admitted. He took a deep breath, and said "But even if it's a snowball's chance in a supernova, I'll take it anyway."

Anita looked at him sharply, suddenly worried. "No Merry, don't. You're already on thin ice with these guys. They might kill you if they stick your neck out too far."

"Like I said, I'll take it anyway." Marius said fiercely.

Anita stared at him, silently, until tears forced her to shut her eyes and turn away.

"Besides, Berry is out there still. Who knows what he'll come up with."

* * *

Quietly, as silently as he could allow himself to move, Beriven moved away from where he lay hidden, when he finally felt assured that he knew how many of them had stormed the place.

He counted six, the most dangerous of whom, the one who scared Beriven the most, was the calm looking tall one with a blaster pistol. One of the others was incapacitated, moaning over a damaged eye. The shrieks had died down, but before they did, Beriven heard him scream about a girl who did this to him. Beriven was pretty sure Anita did it, as both Thema and Tha'varr had been captured before then.

Beriven felt a fierce swell of pride in seeing them alive still, despite what had happened. He could see everyone else in that room, mostly unhurt, which meant Marius had said something that now had them arguing in a different room.

Beriven had a fair bit of time to think, stuck in a small closet while the worst of this passed. He knew that he couldn't take on five or six people at once, and that he might endanger his friends by trying. He also knew that he wouldn't improve their situation by revealing himself yet, since Marius had managed to talk them into keeping his friends alive. They had a fair bit of money, but definitely not enough to satisfy that group if one of their own was badly hurt.

There situation was pretty hopeless, really, unless something changed. And nothing about their situation suggested that it would.

Quietly as he could, he crept out to the front door, and opening it, slipped out into the night.

* * *

"How much have we got?" Marius asked, as Mystery and Bug came back from small corners of the room.

"Fourteen Ducats in total. That's everyone except Beriven, and he probably didn't keep anything for himself." Bug said.

"Yeah." Marius agreed. "Sixty seven ducats in total. That's a lot of food."

"Well, it's worthless to us if we don't live through tonight." Bug insisted.

"Not that. I'm just worried it's not enough to keep Anita safe." Marius said.

"What about you, Merry?" Bug asked. "Aren't you in danger too?"

"Not as much. As soon as we pulled over forty ducats, I was pretty sure most of us would be okay." He handed the lot of it to Bug, and said "Hang on to this for a bit. I'll go hit the door and see if I can talk to them."

Marius stepped towards the door, and held out his hand to knock.

Before he could, the doors were pushed open, and two very angry faces stepped into view, carrying makeshift cudgels. Neither of them were ones Marius recognized.

One of them backhanded Marius, hard enough to make him stumble out of the way. "Which one of you hurt him?" They asked, loudly.


	11. Chapter 8, On a Dark and Stormy Night II

Beriven stumbled almost blindly in the darkness, struggling to find his way while his eyes slowly adjusted to the night. The moon faced away from the planet, and the thick clouds shrouded the streets in the thickest, harshest night Beriven ever remembered. Even the distant lights from windows, or the sides of buildings, seemed smothered by the inky black of this terribly dark midnight.

Beriven clutched his hand to his chest, willing his eyes to see what they obviously couldn't, and stumbled on blindly, until he came to street shop he recognized.

It belonged to a hunting enthusiast. It was mostly trophies and small hand weapons, meant more for cutting up a catch than for the actual hunt, but Beriven had peered inside more than once, and had spied a small stack of antique blaster rifles in the back end.

Beriven simply hoped they worked.

He didn't have time to come up with a better plan, and even if he did, he wasn't thinking straight. He seized on the first way to get inside, which happened to be a metal chair from a nearby cafe, put through the window.

The first throw bounced off the window, cracking some of the glass. Even with the wind, the crash was loud, crashing into his ears and making him jump away from the window. He panted, sharply, as he picked up the metal chair and tried again.

The second blow put one of the legs through the window, though the glass hadn't shattered completely. It wobbled, though, as he pulled on the chair to take it back out, and Beriven didn't waste a moment to try a third time.

The chair went straight through the window with the third throw, and Beriven followed it inside, scampering over the broken glass to the blaster rifles on display.

He grabbed at one wildly, snatching at the first weapon that reached his hands, and pointing it at the street, pulled the trigger.

The trigger moved all the way, as far as Beriven could tell, but nothing happened. Disappointed, Beriven dropped it on the ground and snatched up another, pointing it at the street and trying it in turn.

He tossed aside a half-dozen blasters, before he found one that felt a little heavier. Hoping that was a good sign, he pointed it at the same spot he had aimed with the other blasters, and squeezed the trigger.

The blaster screamed once, quickly, startling Beriven into dropping the weapon. Stumbling backwards, he held a hand to his chest, and panted, trying to calm his nerves.

As his breathing slowed, he picked up the blaster rifle again, and trying it one more time, managed to fire off another blast. Satisfied, he turned and ran back through the broken window, dashing off into the cold, windy night.

The possibility of being heard had crossed Beriven's racing thoughts, as he ran back through the streets. Despite the howling wind, he had fired two blaster shots off into the night. What hadn't occurred to him, was the possibility of having already been watched, by a cloaked figure on the rooftops, who waving a hand into the air lazily, moved to follow the fleeing boy.

* * *

"I said, which one of you hurt him?" The first boy who stepped in the room, who looked angry enough to have been crying a little, rasped. He held the stick up above his head, staring down at Marius.

"I did." Bug said quickly, stepping past his friends into the middle of the room, where he held his hands at his sides.

The boy with the wooden club swung it into Bug's side, knocking him over and sending him rolling along the floor. "Bullshit. Lasan here," and the leading boy pointed to one of his companions. "had you locked in here with a minimum of fuss. You're also not a girl. Now, that means it can only be the sickly looking one," and he pointed to Anita, "the short one, or the alien."

"If you don't tell me, I'll just kill all three of them. We don't need more than one person to tell us where the money is." The boy said. To Marius, who's tongue felt like a lead weight against the bottom of his mouth, and arms shook uncontrollably, the boy speaking looked far too young, not nearly enough like a blooded adult, to be making those threats.

Marius swallowed, and held up one of his shaking arms. "Please. We don't care about money, it's just something we needed to get ourselves safe and happy. You can have all of it."

The older boy looked down at Marius, and slowly, drew his arm back. Knowing it was coming, Marius didn't even try to move away as the hand clenched into a fist, and swung down at his face.

The next real thought Marius had was that he missed half of the conversation, as he blinked back the sudden pain that hammered through his head.

"And I'm not kidding. We're taking revenge for Monkey's eye, and we're taking your money. Tell us who it is, or I'll hurt all of you!" The boy who had hit him screamed, and Marius's friends shrank back in fear.

"I did it." a soft voice murmured, though every head turned her way.

"No!" Thema screamed, her hands covering her eyes.

Tha'varr shrank back as far as she could, holding he head behind her knees. "I did it. I hurt him."

"The alien." The boy smirked, a sickening smile that, despite his fear, made Marius sick to his stomach. "I should have known it'd be some dirty, tentacle headed, bloodthirsty little bitch."

He leaned closer, and grabbed her chin with his hand, yanking her forward. "Did you eat his fucking eye, too? Does whatever sick species you come from eat people, too?" He asked, drawing a knife from his coat.

He held it close to her eye, and Tha'varr whimpered a little in fear. "An eye for an eye, it's fair, isn't it?"

"No! She wasn't even there! I did it!" Anita shouted, finally finding her voice. "Ask your boss, the guy with the gun! He knows!"

The boy stood up, and with his free hand, hit Tha'varr across the face. "Shut the fuck up. This alien confessed!"

Whatever he might have said or done next was interrupted, dramatically, as a red flash drowned out all the light in the room, for the briefest of flashes. Marius and his friends, and even some of the boys with the clubs ducked down in sudden surprise.

"Dako, Lasan, Tream, what the fuck are you doing?" The boy with the gun asked, his long coat suddenly a comforting sight. "I told you not to come in here!"

"But Monkey! His eye! One of these little shits poked it out with their fucking thumb!" The lead boy exclaimed, his voice shrill, quivering a little as he spoke.

"And I told you. If it turns out they're paying protection money, the Boss won't stop hunting us. Monkey lost his eye because he was stupid, lucky for him he's got a spare. Now, do what I tell you, and get the fuck out."

"Fuck you. I'm starting to not like you being in charge."

"Well me and my gun don't give a shit. Move." The boy with the gun said, pointing with his gun towards the door.

Sullenly, but promptly, the others started filing out of the room.

Once they were out, he shut to the doors and turned to Marius. Leveling the gun at him, he asked "How much money do you have?"

* * *

Far from alone in the supposedly empty night, Beriven had been stalked by a figure in the shadows who moved along the rooftops with the confident ease of long experience. The footsteps that followed Beriven's urgent run were silent, smooth, and almost effortless despite the narrow paths between and along the buildings.

Another figure, in the shadows of a balcony, stepped into the light just long enough for the man tailing Beriven to notice, and he slipped quietly from the rooftop, to join the cloaked figure who had waived him over.

"Report, corporal." The cloaked man said, a figure that was obviously quite short, even among the shadows.

"I haven't been a corporal for a long time. I didn't even have to shave back then." The observer reflected.

"Save it, corporal." The other one said, insistently.

"Sorry, specialist." The first one replied, his tone apologetic.

"That's better. You know how important my anonymity is."

"Sorry. I think I've been up too long."

"Report, then."

"I've been tailing the kid since he stopped in front of the window of that shop. Normally, I would have just taken him out, but no one breaks the protection laws in the city. No one, not for any reason. I thought it was strange, so I figured you might want to know before I go end the problem."

"What did he steal?" The one called specialist asked.

"A hunting blaster." The corporal responded.

"An orphan stealing a blaster." The specialist mused, and he stepped forward a little, until he was next to the first observer.

"He must know that he wouldn't be unobserved. I already sent Mitch to keep the neighborhood quiet, and let them know they're getting the protection they paid for."

"Good man." The other one replied, the one referred to as 'specialist'. "And I'm glad you waited." He pointed towards the distance, where the boy had just rounded a corner and dashed out of sight. "Do you recognize him, corporal?"

"No sir. Should I?"

"No, but I should. He's a part of my solution to that orphan problem. Or at least, I thought he was."

"I'll go put an end to it, then." The one called corporal replied.

"Go ahead." The specialist sighed, turning away.

"Oh, on a side note, that small gang of kids, the one with the tall boy, they went down into the warehouse district for some reason. I told a squad to go check, but it's been a bloody windy night, and they're not exactly professionals. They say the boys went into one of those abandoned warehouses, but didn't come out."

The one called specialist turned round again, his eyes wide. "Is that squad certain?"

"Yeah. Bunch of fools, letting those kids get the slip on them." The corporal replied, chuckling to himself. He moved into the shadows, and down a ladder along the side of the building.

"I see." The other one said, musing to himself. "Don't kill him, yet."

* * *

"And don't bullshit with me. Tonight has really sucked so far." The boy with the gun said, pointing his blaster at Marius.

Marius took a deep breath, and said "Sixty Seven ducats. We'd been saving for groceries, new clothes, and school. We wouldn't have this much normally."

The gun wielding boy's eyes widened, his shoulders slumped, and his mouth hung open. "Sixty ducats?"

Marius sighed. "Not enough, huh?"

"Not by a long shot, kid. Monkey's heart just stopped beating." He turned, and pointed the gun towards Anita. "You and the smooth talker are definitely living your last night. As for the rest of you, pay up promptly and keep quiet." He turned back to Marius. "I take it they know where the money is?"

"They do." Marius said, holding his hands together to keep them from shaking. "Please, you're serious? You won't hurt the rest of them?"

"Of course."

"Okay. Bug, pay him." Marius said.

"But Merry! He's gonna kill Anita! And you!" Bug exclaimed.

Marius nodded, and turned to face the boy with the gun. "Do I get some last words, or something? I'd like to say goodbye, you know?"

The gun wielding boy sighed, and stepped out the door. "You have one minute." He said, and shut the door behind him.

"How are you so calm, Merry?" Thug asked.

"Shut up, Thug. Gather round." Everyone gathered close, and Marius started to talk in a feverish, raspy whisper that was hard to hear for even those near him.

"You remember the emergency fire system?"

"Yeah! Thug tripped it once, it took days to get all the water out." Bug said. "Are you gonna pull it or something, Merry?"

"I think so. We pay this guy all the money we have, then I pull the alarm and we all make a break for it, as fast as we can. We meet near the stump, noon tomorrow." Marius said. "Any objections?"

"One. What about you and Anita?" Mystery asked.

"We take our chances with the boy with the gun. I'm not trusting him to keep the rest of you alive."

"This is a stupid plan, Merry. We don't know if we can get out of this room." Mystery insisted. "Look, leave the alarm to us. If we can get out of this room, we'll pull it, and then you might have a chance against the guy with the gun."

"And if you guys can't pull it?" Anita asked. "We just go and die?"

"Yeah, we do." Marius said, quietly. "But we improve their chances of living through this."

"Don't worry, Merry. I can break that window." Thug said, pointing to the pane of glass above the door. "And Bug can fit through it."

"Guys..." Anita said, her voice quivering, tears in her eyes. She covered her face with her hands, and started weeping softly.

Thema came over and wrapped her arms around Anita's shoulders. "I've lived better in the last six months than I ever have, and it's because of all of you. We're not giving you up like that."

"You still need to finish that bedtime story, Merry. I don't read well enough to do it." Bug said.

"Are you all sure?" Mystery asked. "Are you all willing to do this for Merry and Anita?" He finished speaking, and everyone else in the room rounded on him.

The glares he got from his friends were all the same, and spoke volumes. "Hey, I had to ask. I don't want to be dragging anyone into this."

Wordlessly, Bug handed Marius the small bag that held their life's savings, and with a fierce grin, said "It's just money. We'll make more."

Marius stood up, and wiping his eyes with his sleeve, said "to the lucky orphans!"

Everyone else pumped their arms quietly, and Marius knocked on the door.

The boy with the gun opened it, and hanging their heads to hide their expressions, Marius and Anita slowly stepped through the door.

* * *

Beriven stood at the end of a narrow alleyway, dimly lit by the lights of the warehouse where his friends were now held captive, and tried to stop the shaking in his hands.

It wasn't that he was afraid. He was, but it was coming back from the shop he stole the gun from, at a near sprint, that now had his shaking hands struggling to hold the gun steady. He needed to be calm, needed to be ready, and he didn't have a lot of time to waste.

He stared at the warehouse, his home, and wondered if any of his friends were still alive. He had been gone so long, too long, trying to get this rifle, and everyone else might already have been killed.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself, and focused on his friends. He tried again to see them.

The visions in his mind whirled, and in the direction of the warehouse, he could see the soft, small lights in the distance. A few were close together, and in the distance, five others were gathered.

It wasn't the first time he had done this, seen something beyond what sight normally allowed him. It was stronger, and far clearer, than Beriven ever remembered it, but the pounding fear in his own heart was enough to focus his thoughts.

The group of lights closest to him, he found himself focusing on them, and instantly, feelings swirled through his mind. He felt laughter, comfort, joy, and a sudden flood of memories, of his friends. He was sure, almost instantly, that it was his friends he could see.

But there was one light, moving with another two, away from his friends, that he didn't understand. The others were lights, small in his sight but brilliant, like looking at streetlights from a distance. This one cast a haze of light, soft silver and almost fog like, as it seemed to envelop the two lights around it.

Distracted, Beriven couldn't hear the muffled footfalls from heavy combat boots, as a black cloaked figure moved in the shadows behind him.

His own heavy breathing was the last thing Beriven heard, as a heavy hand gripped his hair, and swung his head into the wall.

* * *

Marius and Anita, chins still resolutely touching their chest, walked without speaking a few steps behind the boy with the gun, their sluggish pace and unsteady gaits readily assumed to be a degree of reluctance.

Only the boy with the gun wouldn't know, or believe, that hope still burned in their hearts, and that their bowed heads hid eyes that darted towards light switches and doorways, and searched hungrily for their potential escape.

The boy with the gun, his own head slung low and his gaze fixed steadily on his feet, would occasionally hold the blaster in both hands, and cringe.

"I didn't want to kill you." He said, loudly, though he didn't turn to them.

Neither of them responded, in any way.

"I really didn't." He added. "It's just I can't just let you guys go. There's no way you pay the protection tax."

He turned back to them, and said "I thought about it. There's no way the Boss would make you pay the tax if you're as young as you are. He might not make slaves out of us, but he sure doesn't look out for us."

He shrugged and rounded the corner, and looked up sharply as the others already arrived in view. Noticing his hesitation, Marius and Anita both stopped, and froze in place, their hearts pounding.

One of the other boys, the one who had threatened them, took a step forward and said "We talked it over while you were gone, Ratam. We've gotta kill all of them."

"What the fuck makes you say that?" The boy with the gun, the boy named Ratam, asked. "It only makes our situation worse if we kill them. The Boss won't take too kindly to it."

"You used our names, in that room, with the others. It's bad enough you told them about Monkey, but you told them three of our names. That's a big lead for one of the Boss' enforcers. If we leave even one of those kids alive, and he remembers our names, we're all dead."

"So you're saying we either kill all of them, and leave no witnesses, or we kill none of them, and hope the boss doesn't take the manhunt for us too seriously." Ratam said. He put his hand in his pocket, and made a show of gripping the blaster. "If it turns out they pay the protection tax, and we kill all of them, you know what happens to us?"

"Yeah. Nothing. We leave no witnesses, remember?" The other boy responded, taking a step closer. The other boys around him followed suit, and Marius, watching from the doorway, waved Anita to step back.

"Besides, how much did they have? They've gotta have lots of money if they can afford to pay the tax." Another of the boys added.

"They have sixty-seven ducats. We could eat well for three months on that." Ratam said.

"They're holding out!" Another boy exclaimed.

"If they aren't, they're not paying the tax!" Someone shouted, and Marius recognized the boy he had held at knifepoint, before their leader Ratam had appeared.

"I say we vote on it." The boisterous one, the leader of the small group that had attacked them recently, shouted into the air. His suggestion was cheered by the others, though Ratam was clearly unimpressed.

"All right." Ratam said. "We'll vote. Me and my gun say we take the ducats and get a head start. Now. We leave Monkey's body with them, and let them try to explain why they have a dead body. Now, my gun kinda has a problem with anyone else voting, so that's what we're gonna do."

"Fuck you! You got a real power trip going, ever since you found that blaster!" One of the boys exclaimed.

Marius saw it in his mind just before it happened, and didn't waste time wondering if that was exactly how it would play out. Just as the boy finished shouting, he whirled, and pointing towards the end of the hallway, he started running.

Anita barely had time to turn before one of the boys threw something at Ratam. As she took the corner, and fled from sight, Ratam screamed in pain and collapsed on the ground, his hands covering his face. The other boys were on him in an instant, and Ratam disappeared in the sudden flurry of blows.

"Merry, what about the others!" Anita panted beside him, as they both charged across the hall.

"Get the door open, and we run outside." Marius panted.

Just as he spoke, a sudden howl tore through the building, prompting both of them to cover their ears as they ran. The alarm startled them enough that for a few moments, neither of them noticed the water that was pouring from the roof.

"They're out!" Anita shouted, her voice lighter and happier than Marius had ever remembered it. "They're out!"

"Let's keep going!" Marius shouted, though he too felt like crying out in joy.

As they ran, they could hear heavy pounding behind them, a cacophony of stamps and beats that skulked just out of sight, but grew louder despite the dead run that Marius put himself into.

They rounded a corner into the larger storage area of the warehouse, and nearly ran straight into Thug.

"Thug!" Anita exclaimed, adrenaline still coursing through her system.

Thug didn't respond, but stared at the door, still some distance away. Marius, wordlessly, followed with his gaze.

One of the larger shelving units lay almost on its side, it's heavy bulk splayed against the storage doors. The heavy metal frame was made of solid duirte, fully as thick as Thug, and before falling, stood halfway up to the roof that towered over their heads.

Marius looked to the others, to see Thug's mute expression of despair echoed on their faces. Bug hung his head to his chin, his fists clenched at his sides. Thema, beside him, wrapped her arms around her chest, and tried to stifle the sobs that threatened to bubble up from her stomach.

Mystery and Tha'varr had each found a small pipe, and held it in their hands like a sword, staring at the doorway.

"Are we gonna fight them?" Anita asked, quietly.

"They have that gun! We can't win!" Bug exclaimed.

"I don't care!" Tha'varr screamed, the tears in her eyes joining the water streaming down her face. She turned to Bug, and said "Before I met you all, no one was ever kind to me! I know how everyone else still treats me! I'm not giving you up!"

"But we can't win, Tha'varr." Thug admitted. "Not against that gun."

"I don't care if I can't win!" She screamed at him. "You never have to fight when you know you can win!"

No one asked her what that meant. At that moment, the lights went out. The sudden, cold darkness was blinding, completely taking them by surprise. They gasped, and held their breaths for a few moments before the faint low of the few emergency lights illuminated the doorway again.

"Oh, they're coming!" Thema exclaimed.

"What?" Marius asked.

"They're coming!" Thema exclaimed. "They killed the lights like they did the last time!"

"That's just it, though." Marius said. "They're coming to kill us, and they have a gun. Why would they kill the lights?"

"You're right." Thug admitted, pushing water away from his face. "A gun's useless if you can't see. That's their edge they just gave away."

They held their collective breaths for a long moment, not speaking, waiting for what they feared would come.

A few heartbeats stretched into a few minutes, and still, no one came through the doorway.

"What's going on out there?" Bug asked.

A minute more, and the scream of a blaster rifle punched through the air, making the orphans jump in fright.

The blast was followed by a few more shots, startling screams that brought shudders, goosebumps, and confusion.

All at once, the lights returned, and the water stopped.

"Is it a trick?" Anita asked.

"Why?" Marius asked her in turn. "They didn't need to. They had us."

"I say we get out of here, and worry about it later." Thug said.

Cautiously, Marius and Thug started to walk back into the corridor, towards the other entrance to the warehouse. The others followed slowly, hugging the walls as they followed.

Marius, leading, rounded a corner to find a strange sight. A man, quite a bit bigger than any of the boys that had attacked them, and wearing some strange kind of helmet, held a blaster rifle and had it pointed towards a few shapes that lay unmoving along the ground.

The strange man saw Marius only an instant later, and slowly shifted into a less threatening stance, standing up straight and letting the blaster point towards the floor.

"You're part of that group, the lucky orphans?" He said. The voice was cool, calm, with a hint of boredom.

"We are. All of us except one are right behind me. You're one of the Boss' people, right?" Marius asked.

"That's right. Keep following that corridor, and head outside. Your friend is out there."

They did as the blaster wielding man ordered, trying not to look at the shapes lying on the floor.

A few breathless, silent moments passed, as they found their way without incident to the door, and stepped out into the night.

Waiting outside was a flurry of activity, with a dozen of the Boss' enforcers standing guard. None of them raised a weapon as they stepped out, but waved to the others who were now gathered a little further away.

Marius looked, and recognized the now familiar attire that the Don of Vos Ma'ar chose to maintain his anonymity in. Beside him were a couple of people he didn't recognize, along with Gothe, the spacer.

A little further away, holding a pack of ice to his head, was a far more familiar face. "Berry!" Thema shouted, dashing over to him. The others, at a similar pace, ran over to him.

The others embraced Beriven warmly, who was busy muttering 'I'm so sorry' to them, waving awkwardly as Thema, Bug, and eventually everyone clamored to ask him what had happened to him.

"I hid when it started." Beriven admitted, and looked grateful when no one looked upset with him. "Till things got quiet again, then I tried to find out how many there were. When I found out, I ran to the hunting store, to try to steal a blaster."

"Smart." Marius admitted, in admiration.

"I found one, and I was on my way back, when someone knocked me out. I woke up a couple of minutes ago, to have these guys," and here, Beriven pointed to the small group near him. "Telling me that they had just sent in some guys to get you out."

"We saw them, Berry. All those boys who had us were rounded up so quickly. I can't believe that they would do this. "

The small group of adults who were talking nearby stepped up to the group, which formed a semi-circle to accommodate them.

One of the two men that Marius didn't recognize spoke first, and said "We'd like you all to know that the boys who attacked you have been dealt with. All of them except one are dead, they were armed and tried to put up a fight. The one that's living looks like the others turned on him, and we're taking him with us now.

The Boss himself wants you all to know," And here, Marius kept his eyes judiciously averted from the brown cloaked master of the city, since none of his companions except Beriven had identified the Boss. "That this intervention and the subsequent fortifying of your warehouse is part of the protection tax that you pay. You will not be expected to take on some kind of debt, or engage in some quid pro quo."

The unfamiliar man paused a moment, letting the children take in what they had heard. "Also, the patrols will be expanded to encompass the warehouse district."

Surprisingly, Bug spoke first in response. "No apology?"

Marius turned to him quickly, before anyone else could respond. "No, no apology. The Boss doesn't owe us anything, Bug. He's a Don, a gang leader, not our government. And we'd be dead already if it weren't for him."

Beriven added "I honestly didn't think we were already paying the tax. We haven't done any of the things he wants us to do."

The unfamiliar man raised an eyebrow at that. "You agreed to it, didn't you? Since it's only been a day, no one could assume you were failing to do your part of the bargain, could you?"

"But the bargain I struck with the Boss," Marius said, to the visible shock of the others, except Beriven and Mystery. "I thought it was just that he wouldn't kill us or run the orphans out of town. I didn't think he was offering so much."

"Wait, Merry, you talked with the Boss? The Don of Vos Ma'ar? The mysterious master?" Thug asked, incredulous. "That's where you were last night?"

The unfamiliar man looked unimpressed. "You mean your group hasn't agreed to this already? This might change things."

"No. We agreed already." Mystery said, to everyone's shock.

"And you are?"

"Their leader." Mystery responded, and Marius grinned in thanks. "I was going to talk with everyone tonight, but..." And at that, Mystery waved his arms, glancing at everything around them.

The unfamiliar man nodded. "Good enough then. We'll have a maintenance crew come by tomorrow, to make your building more secure. Tonight, this squad will stand guard while you sleep. We'll let you back inside soon, after we have a doctor take a quick look at you."

"Thanks." Thema said.

"One more thing." The unfamiliar man said, and he looked stern and cold as he stood up straighter. "You all are privy, or at least close to privy, to the single most valuable secret in this city. It's a secret that men have spent small fortunes trying to find out. Your new relationship with the Boss cannot, under any circumstances, spread. It must remain tightly confined to you, to the point that even if your group, your inner circle grows, this knowledge cannot.

As their leader, you know who the Boss is. Beriven and Marius know as well. The rest of you cannot know. If any of the rest of you learn who the Boss is, or spread even the inkling that you might know, you will be killed.

I can't stress how serious I am. This is a warning, as much as a threat." The unfamiliar man finished.

Everyone nodded quickly.

"Good. Mystery, Marius, Beriven, come with me."


	12. Chapter 9, Aftermath

The others were left to the fussy attention of a physician, who looked for all the world as if he had been dragged out of bed barely ten minutes before.

"Bloody burglaries and armed robberies. You wonder what the Tax is worth if this sort of thing still happens." He muttered, as he held Thema's arm and pulled on it slightly. After a moment, he seemed satisfied, and let her drop her arm down to her side.

"When was the last time you heard of one happening? A robbery like this?" Thug asked.

"Two years ago. Considering the size of this city, it's a bloody miracle. And I suppose there's nothing to say about the tax, since the crime rate is worse everywhere else in the galaxy. It's just that I was dragged out of bed to check out a bunch of orphans who couldn't afford a checkup if your lives depended on it." The physician muttered.

"Hey! We have jobs! We wear clean clothes and everything!" Bug exclaimed, looking quite ready to attack the doctor.

"You are quite a bit cleaner than I thought you'd be. Though your teeth don't look like they've been cleaned in years." The doctor noted.

"Cleaning teeth?" Anita asked, quietly.

The doctor paused, his eyes widening a little as he slowly nodded to himself. "You're serious." He muttered. "You're completely serious."

Loudly, as if to compensate for how quietly he was speaking before, he said "I want all of you to come by my office this week. I'll go over a few things you need to know, to take better care of yourselves."

He hurried away, not even finishing the checkup he was apparently supposed to do. The children looked at each other, confusion passing over their faces, before shrugging and putting the strange doctor out of their minds.

"Do we really have to sleep in there tonight?" Tha'varr asked.

Thug's breath hitched a little, and Anita visibly shuddered at the question. To all of them, the thought was almost inconceivable.

Bravely, Tha'varr said "the sleeping bags are probably soaked, and most of the food is going to be ruined. Everything except what we kept in the freezer."

"We can replace all of it. We'll be sleeping on the floor again, if the sleeping bags are ruined, but we can get new ones eventually. It's just stuff, we haven't lost anything we can't replace."

"Yeah!" Bug exclaimed. "We didn't loose anything we can't replace! We still have each other, right?" He asked, looking to his friends eagerly, his eyes pleading.

Thug and Thema softly shouted their support, and though Tha'varr stared at Bug sharply. Anita, a little ways away, sat with her legs tucked tightly against her chest, her arms wrapped around her knees.

She hadn't cried, but she still looked as pale, and despondent, as she had while their lives were in danger.

"What's wrong?" Bug asked, but Tha'varr grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him away, her strange eyes narrowed in anger.

"How could you?" She asked him, her voice a hoarse and steely rasp. Bug, despite himself, swallowed hard and took a step away from her, holding his hands up.

"I just want to know what's wrong!" Bug exclaimed. "She's a friend, one of us, and she looks like someone just died!"

"More than one person did, Bug. Every single one of those boys is probably dead right now." Tha'varr responded. The statement hung in the air, and Bug's shoulders slumped.

Bug mumbled incoherently, trying to find something to say. Tha'varr held up a hand, and said "Stop, Bug. It's just worse for her, because she killed one of them."

"Who, that Monkey guy? She just broke his eye, defending herself. Fighting for us! She shouldn't feel ashamed because of that!" Bug exclaimed. "I'm gonna tell her that!"

"Bug," Tha'varr said, shaking her head. "Like it or not, she just murdered someone. She didn't mean to, and she did it protecting us, but she still did it. I think of all of us, Merry included, she has the biggest heart. You remember how willing she was to make Berry part of us, when it was just us and Thug? The rest of us didn't trust him at all, and she defended him even when we threatened to leave her."

"Oh," was all Bug could think to say, and without trying to speak again, walked back to the group and sat down, burdened by his own understanding.

Tha'varr, joining them behind him, sat down beside Thug and asked "What do you think Mystery and them are talking about?"

Thug shrugged, and said "I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"Why aren't we a part of it? They're making decisions that are gonna change our lives, and we don't get a say in any of it." Thug said.

"That's cuz we can't know who the Boss is." Thema insisted.

"I know! But the thing is," here, Thug paused for a moment, deep in thought. "We know people who know the secret. It's almost as bad. If he's trusting us to keep that a secret, but isn't willing to treat us like the group we are, then I don't want to be burdened with this secret!"

"Whad'ya mean, Thug?" Bug asked.

"I mean, if word spread that we have a special relationship with the Boss, and a rumor goes around that we might know who he is, we'll have people hunting us. We've all heard stories of how people used to be searching for his identity. We won't last long, and it's just as bad if we can identify someone who knows who the Boss is." Thug said.

Tha'varr nodded. "You're right, Thug."

"But what are we gonna do about it?" Thema asked. "Cuz they'll just kill us now, if we start a problem."

"We have to." Anita said, surprising everyone. "We have to go find Berry, Mystery, and Merry now, and make sure we're a part of what's about to happen. They're still alive because the Boss thinks they're useful. If they weren't, and they knew who the Boss was, they'd be dead already. But what about us?"

"The Boss wouldn't kill us. He needs us!" Thug exclaimed.

"He needs Berry and Merry. What are the rest of us to him?" Anita asked, coldly.

Bug shivered a little, Thug was taken aback, and even Tha'varr unconsciously tried to put some distance between the two of them. Her words were delivered calmly, as if she were discussing adding, and her eyes looked hollow and empty, as if the heart she used to express in them had drowned in the water back in their home.

"You're saying we're only useful to the Boss because we're attached to Berry and Merry?" Tha'varr asked.

"Yeah." Anita said. "That's exactly what I'm saying. And what happens if we're not as attached?"

"We die." Thug said.

"No." Thema said. "That can't happen. They'd never abandon us!"

"I'd like to think so. Berry has always worked so hard to keep us happy, and Merry is so kind. But any of us could have died last night. Any of us." Anita said.

"Anita, I'm sorry." Tha'varr said, softly, and Anita winced, turning her eyes away and wiping at her nose with her sleeve.

"But we need to be a part of this. We need to help decide what the Lucky Orphans are going to do with their future." Anita finished, firmly. The fire, if not the warmth, was beginning to return to her eyes. "We need to go and find the Boss."

The others nodded quickly, and all of them stared marching, as quickly as the could without running, in the direction the strange man had lead their friends.

They stormed to the end of the street, and looked around.

"There!" Bug said. "The lights are still on!" Bug's index finger was pointed towards a small shoppe halfway down the next street. The distance and the faint light made reading the sign impossible, but everyone was convinced this was the way to go.

Halfway to the light, the unfamiliar man who had lead their friends away appeared from the shadows, stepping behind them and coughing impatiently.

"We need to see them!" Thug said, stepping past his friends and crossing his arms barely a foot away from the man. Despite Thug's unusual size, the top of his head barely reached the unfamiliar man's chest.

"Do you?" The man asked, a hitch of amusement in his voice. Bug and Tha'varr deflated visibly, while Anita stepped forward to put herself beside Thug.

"We do." She said softly, and in a way, it seemed more intimidating than Thug's posturing.

"Then you're right on time." He said. "Your friends are inside, as is the Boss." He smiled, and gently turned the door aside for them. "Can I get you anything? Tea? Hot Morsan in steamed milk?" He watched, with a measure of amusement, as their eyes widened as he spoke, and didn't ask anything more as he ushered them inside.

As they entered, they looked around at what must normally be a small cafe. A stack of chairs were set against the window, and the tables were left bare. Only one, a large table in the far corner, had any occupants.

At the table, there were Beriven, Marius and Mystery, sitting with two other men. One, a tall man with badly tousled hair and a strangely colourful shirt, sat leaning far back into the chair, apparently enjoying the moment. To his left, a small man in a plain brown cloak sat quietly, nursing a cup that steamed readily into his nose.

"Guys! You came!" Beriven exclaimed, and waved at them.

"You're doing the next shipment pro-bono, Gothe." The small man said, a satisfied grin sneaking across his features.

"Gizka barf." Gothe cursed, shaking his head sadly. "Remind me why I make bets with you."

"Because it's the only way I can afford you." The Boss replied. "Correllia, with a hundred crates of Minorsans."

"At least you're not sending me somewhere dangerous. You know the place is having a civil war right now?"

"It's been quiet for the last three years. Their arms race is good for inflating the price of luxuries. If you're quick, I'll have enough to start building that new sewer system." The small man mused.

The others took seats, leaving the one on Gothe's right empty. As they sat, they cast questioning looks to Marius and Beriven, obviously missing something important.

"You're quite right, you know." The short man said to Bug, who was staring intently at him, his eyebrows scrunched towards his nose. "I am the Don of Vos Ma'ar, the invisible master of the city you reside in."

Bug shook his head as he sat down. "No, sorry. I was just hoping I would get taller than you, eventually."

The other orphans blanched, and Thema flinched as Bug spoke, horrified and frightened all the same time. Thug had enough presence of mind to backhand Bug across the back of the head before he sat down.

Gothe, however, started laughing. Hard and loud, with an infectious mirth that made the others smile a little, despite the circumstances.

The Boss shot Gothe a withering glare, but shook his head and shrugged. The other, unfamiliar man who had shown them inside had a grin on his face as he started dropping small glass cups from a tray in his hands.

"Hot Morsan for the lot of you. Drink it slowly, I don't want to get up for a little while." He said, and deposited one for each of them, even for the three that had arrived earlier. Once he finished, he took the empty seat to Gothe's right, and folding his leg, leaned back and sighed contentedly.

"First," The Boss said, and every eye in the room turned to him. "I wanted to make sure that the rest of you," and he looked to the latecomers, each in turn. "were willing of your own accord to take the initiative, to be willing to do things when the situation required it. I'm investing a lot by you, and I felt I deserved the chance to see that all of you were bringing something to the table."

"Now, last night, Marius and I met. In fact, he bashed on the door to the stump and demanded to see me right away. He did it because he suspected I had sent Damos to you, to test you for something. He was right."

The other's eyes widened, and they looked from the Boss to Marius, their mouths moving without uttering a whisper.

"I sent Damos to you, to test how useful you could be to me. You see, I have a bit of a problem with the orphans in the city. An unintended consequence of outlawing slavery in the territory in and around Vos Ma'ar. You lot are becoming bolder, and substantially more dangerous, as you call can attest to."

They all nodded, somberly.

"To cure myself of the potential headache, I have a few options. The easy choices disgust me, and the ethical choices disgust my wallet. I can either house you all and see to your needs, working you all towards becoming productive, protection tax paying residents. I can drive you all out of the city, and establish a policy of driving vagrants out of the city on sight. Or I can round you all up and sell you in the next city." The Boss explained, slowly.

"A few years ago, I tried to extend a measure of help to you all, but found that my efforts yielded almost nothing for my trouble. You were all still poor, homeless and desperate, if a little better nourished. So I was forced to begin considering the other options, and didn't like any of it. But then you lot, the lucky orphans, found a bonanza of free food from a defaulting grocer, and manage to swindle my cook out of ten ducats in the process." The Boss continued, with a small grin.

Their eyes widened, and Beriven shook his head sadly. "We were hoping you wouldn't find out about that."

"We weren't counting on it, though." Marius added. "We were covering up our tracks from earlier."

The Boss smiled outright. "It was a good plan, to make a lie true. But if you hadn't done what you did next, I wouldn't be so lenient on you right now. It was when you started finding yourselves work, and lifted yourselves out of poverty, to a degree of dignity, that I took real interest in you."

"You became a potential solution to my troubles. Orphans who could find work, could look out for each other, could solve their own problems and make something of themselves. I understand, Thursten, that you've caught the interest of the materials engineer at the spaceport." Thug looked startled by the Boss's revelation, but didn't contradict him.

"So, I have you all here now, because I've demonstrated that you now qualify for the protection tax. Now, until you're nineteen, you don't have to pay, but considering that you don't have people to pay for you, our relationship needs to be renegotiated. What I'm proposing, is a degree of subsidization in exchange for your assistance. Is this, in principle, agreeable to you and yours?" The boss finished, with a small flair in his speech. The dramatic aspect of it was lost on the children, who apart from Beriven, now looked at him with the slightly confused disdain that only children can deliver.

"What?" Thug asked, and the others burst into laughter.

"Language, Boss!" Gothe sputtered, in between giggles.

"What? There was nothing rude in that!" The Boss exclaimed, indignantly.

"It was gibberish to anyone who doesn't read archaic plays for fun." Gothe laughed, and held out his hands. "Please, please. What the Boss is saying is that if you help him with his orphan problem, he'll give you more than just protection."

The others looked to each other quickly, casting their glances from one to another in rapid succession. In just moments, Bug held up his hand with the thumb pointed straight in the air and nodded to Anita, who did the same. The others did the same in short order.

"We like it." Mystery said, with an air of finality. "But we gotta agree on the details first."

"Of course." The Boss said.

* * *

"So there's no way we can teach a classroom! Only Berry and Merry really know how to read!" Bug exclaimed. It was their third time trying to negotiate on the classes that the orphans were supposed to set up. The Boss, repeatedly, had insisted that the orphans must become literate to be useful at a job.

"We're agree with you, that literacy is the biggest thing. I just don't think we should neglect math." Thug insisted. "My job at the docks makes me add things up in my head all the time. I'm barely keeping ahead."

"The dock-master seems to think differently. He speaks highly of you." The Boss responded, at which Thug looked a little bashful. "But how many jobs require that? Most of my enforcers don't need to know more than the digits on their hands and feet."

"Even when they're missing a few?" Gothe asked, with a grin. The Boss, despite the sudden scowl that crossed his features, let the comment pass without note.

"Maybe not for a job itself, but handling money." Marius said. "Money needs math."

"So a passing ability to read, and some skills with math." The Boss nodded to himself. You all possess those skills already. What's the problem?"

"But you want us to set up a school!" Bug said. "We've gotta know a whole lot more than just that. Also, orphans aint gonna listen to other orphans. You need a authority, a guy with a big loud voice that people obey."

Marius, softly, asked "What about a bit of each? What if we just teach the basic math and letters, and you set up some more advanced classes, bring in a few teachers? That way, we can make sure we're teachin right."

The Boss nodded, and Beriven whooped in agreement. The others paused, and all eyes eventually fell on the unfamiliar man, who was busy handing out another round of hot Morsan.

"That might be for the best. Boss, I don't think that basic letters and math is enough, but it's worlds better than nothing. If we get most orphans through this setup that the orphans run, it would get some of them used to learning. Enough that some would be more willing to attend schools." The unfamiliar man said, handing out the last glass to Tha'varr and sitting down, where he sat before, on the Boss' right.

"That has potential." The Boss mused. "Bug, were you worried about what you could teach, or wether they would want to learn."

"If we attach the idea of money and jobs to the basic program, they'll learn enough to pass it." Beriven said. "From there, we can't guarantee how many would want to go on."

"How large a percentage would go through this?" Gothe asked.

"Don't ask that." The Boss stated quickly. "As competent as they are, they're still kids. Don't give them the impression this deal hinges on their success."

"But they've gotta know that. It's not for them, but what you might have to do to the orphans if this doesn't work." Gothe insisted. "I hate to paint a bleak picture, but he's pretty serious about this orphan problem."

"We know." Mystery said. "Believe me, we go the hint with Damos."

"I'm hoping for about three quarters of them." The Boss admitted. "We won't get everyone, but if the movement is large enough, the rest won't be nearly as big a problem. I'm willing to put up a protection tax incentive to hire orphans, if they go through this program of yours. But I still want you to match up orphans and jobs. Does that leave enough you to support your group?"

"I think so." Marius said. "Anita and I can look for work, Beriven and I can teach letters, Thug can teach Math part time, and I'm sure Bug and Thema can help us a little with it. And Tha'varr cooks, so we're okay with food and whatnot."

"Excellent. Now, Beriven, your warehouse idea is a good place to set up a housing unit. Any child who enters your program will be housed there, and get three meals a day. I'll set up a few people to cook and manage the place, so there won't be any trouble. You can use it as your teaching ground, as well."

"When did this start sounding so doable?" Bug asked.

"Right when you said it wouldn't work." Thema replied. "It's always how it happens."

* * *

"There's something I need to tell you all." The unfamiliar man said. "You weren't told before now, so that if you forget everything else, you won't forget this. I am Sark Vilth, the proprietor of the Stump. If you're ever in dire straits, and someone is threatening you or your friends to give up the identity of the Boss, you can tell them it's me."

The orphans stared, numb, not sure what to make of this information.

"He's okay with the danger this puts him in. It's also a safety mechanism, since he's always fairly well guarded. Everyone who knows who I really am is told this. It works as bait, since he has a platoon of former soldiers shadowing him regularly, and a decoy, to warn us that someone I trusted with my identity is in danger."

The others nodded, saying "We'll remember."

"Good." The Boss said. He stretched, and yawned a little. "I suppose an insensitive question is in order." He turned to Anita, and softly, asked "Are you okay sleeping in your home still? I can find you all other accommodations, if you feel you need it."

Anita swallowed hard, and said "No. We'll be okay."

"Then, goodnight." The Boss said, and stood up. The others did the same, and thanked him with enthusiastic handshakes, and toasting him with their hot Morsan. Eventually, they made their way out the door, while Gothe stopped Marius and took him aside.

"Marius, I..." Gothe began, and took a deep breath.

"Marius, I want to offer you a home, if you're willing." Gothe said.

"What?" Marius asked. "But why?"

"Your parents were friends of mine. The best of friends. I miss them, and couldn't have imagined that their son managed to survive. If I had known, I would have looked for you. I would have found you, Marius." Gothe insisted, and he struggled to keep the emotion from his voice.

"I-" Marius started, struggling for words.

"I know you don't know me at all, but I can show you pictures, of your parents, of you as a baby. The Boss can vouch for it."

"I can't." He eventually managed to blurt out. "I trust you, but I can't. I can't leave my friends. We just started to do well."

"Your parents wouldn't like it if I didn't make the offer, but really," Gothe said. "I don't know if you need it. You and this group of yours look like you're doing just fine, and truth be told, I don't really have a home to offer you." Gothe admitted, ruefully. "Now don't look at me like that, I have enough saved to buy a place and live a nice, quiet life it you had said yes, but my heart's still set on my own ship."

"It's okay. And thanks. but if you have a picture or two of my parents..." Marius began, and Gothe agreed before he could finish.

"I'll get them for you after I do that run to Correllia. But Merry, be careful, okay?"

"Why?" Marius asked. "After tonight, what else can happen?"

"I hate to borrow a line from a movie I saw, but I have a bad feeling about this." Gothe admitted to him, his gaze fixed outside.

"What, this deal with the Boss?" Marius asked.

"No, not that. Definitely not that. Just recent news from off-world. It's unsettling."

Marius nodded, not understanding the significance of news that would worry a spacer willing to fly to a world in a civil war to make a delivery.


	13. Chapter 10, Reconciliation

Laxum was a small moon, orbiting the gas giant Calousan, four parscets from Coruscant. It's name, and even the names attached to the star its master planet orbited are lost to even the best historical records.

It was the first terraforming project that Coruscant ever undertook. Christened by the Lord of the Obsidian Throne, it was finished and made habitable in less than sixty years, a marvel that few terraforming projects will ever equal. Since then, the world was largely forgotten by the ambitions of the Immortal Emperor, the lord Iniquitus, as he turned his attention to the consolidation of the world he viewed as the natural boundaries of his own dominion.

Since that time, the world has become a small hub for interplanetary trade, cushioned as it is between hyperspace routes. Traders, smugglers, farmers, and pioneers came to forge a new life for themselves, and along with them, the inevitable dissidents that fled civilized rule. Both common criminals and political dissidents, along with disillusioned soldiers, found the anonymity of Laxum a welcome cloak.

A refuge for those who do not wish to be found.

Briefly, a light flashed in the space beyond Laxum. For a single instant, it shone brightly in the night sky over Vos Ma'ar, and the three children lying on the roof of a warehouse, staring into the night sky, gasped and pointed excitedly as it lit itself against the fading silhouette of Calousan.

Those three pairs of wonder lusting eyes were the only witnesses to the exile of the will that commissioned this moon, so many years ago.

Above the sky, coaxed by the insistent pull of the moon's gravity, a small ship descended past the small cloud of debree in orbit, and plunged into the atmosphere.

Onboard, at the helm, was a single man. Wrapped head to toe in blackened, badly burnt bandages, with only tufts of thick, greasy hair sticking out at odd angles, the faint smell of burning flesh still lingering around him, he jerked the controls with the frantic, hurried and unfocused pace of the inexperienced. His fingers flipped switches, he hissed and cursed as sirens sounded their meaningless warnings, and pulled on the thruster controlls as he tried to apply his inadequate knolwedge of atmospheric entry into an intellegent action.

Another siren sounded, this one familiar. It had sounded earlier, a few days ago, when his ship had been pounded by a debree field the ship's telemetry had overlooked. He recognized it, one of the most important parts of his ship, the one that made space and hyperspace travel possible.

The shields were failing, and he was still falling far too fast.

He slipped additional power into the port stabilizers, and swung the ship around so the engines faced the direction of his fall. Cringing as the gravity threatened to black him out, noticing the ship's artificial gravity had just failed, he gritted his teeth and hammered on the thrusters. The sudden burn pressed him into his seat, and tried to steal his grip on the thrusters.

A couple of seconds, and it finally happened. The ship's thrusters disengaged, the ship started plummeting to the ground, and the red, fiery aura around the shields dissipated.

Snarling, he disengaged the shields, and engaged the stabilizing thrusters to try and control his descent. He flipped the switch, and nothing happened.

Without stabilizing thrusters, a spaceship in the air is a rocket without guidance, which will throw itself anywhere the wind takes it. The main thrusters were useless without them, and the ship's own terminal velocity would be more than enough to destroy the ship.

In a rush, the bandaged man pulled through a well-used book, as the ship corscrewed through the air. He found the instructions only as the ship fell through the upper cloud cover, and a new siren, signaling his proximity to the ground, began howling in his ears.

He cursed someone he knew, someone loyal to him, for not supplying a pilot when they found him this ship.

He only finished reading what he needed to know when the ship finally broke through the rest of the cloud cover. Shapes in the ground below were clearly defined. Settlements, farmland, and towns were clear to te unaided eye. The bandaged man recoiled in sudden awareness as he realized how little time he had left.

Flicking a switch, he started bleeding the stabilizing engines dry in an attempt to reignite them. He watched the dial, which dissipated quickly from the heat, and then bled new fuel in an attempt to reignite it.

By the time it worked, he could make out individual trees in the forest. He breathed a sigh of relief as the ship straightened itself out, and slowed a great deal before it plummeted into the trees along a hillside.

The shock of the impact stole the light from his eyes, and he went limp and collapsed for a few moments.

When his sight returned, and he was certain he hadn't broken anything, he unclipped his seatbelt, and slowly, grimacing in pain, surveyed the sip.

The damage from the landing was the least and the last of the beating the ship had taken since he had commandeered it on Courascant. Most of the flight circuitry had either overloaded, or was still burning. The life support was inoperable, and the smoke had already overwhelmed the backup systems.

He shook his head in disgust, and pointed his hand at the windows.

Brilliant lightning burst from the tips of his fingers, ripping through the ballistic glass and tearing apart the metal frames they rested in. Shards flew out of the ship, and into the forest beyond it.

For the first time, this sorcerer stopped and regarded his surroundings.

Tall trees, with a canopy fully capable of making one forget there even was a sky beyond it, was broken only by the hole his ship had made into it.

Though he had chosen a forest to keep a low profile, he now regretted the walk he would have to commit to, in order to find the next town.

He stepped back into his ship, and stepped into the engine room for perhaps the only thing of real value left in his possession.

The ship, despite the damage, had managed to keep the hyperdrive safe and functional.

The ship itself was important only to allow a passenger to breathe. Without a hyperdrive, a ship had no real value. A working hyperdrive, however, was worth a small country to any world that had yet to discover hyperspace transportation.

To do that, he would need a new ship. And to find a ship, he needed to find anything that resembled a trade port.

He sat down and closed his eyes, and turned his focus away from his senses. He recalled the techniques he had taught himself, almost half a century ago, to find what he was looking for.

Thinking first of all the hunting animals he had ever known, he had once asked himself what makes them succeed. Certainly, keen eyes and sharp ears were important, but poor tools in a master's hands were far more effective than even the keenest instruments in the hands of the inept. What made a hunter succeed, what drove them, was hunger.

Real hunger was different from the irritating promptings of the flesh. Real hunger came only when one's life was in danger, when you were starving, stripped of options, and everything about you was focused on doing whatever you could to stay alive. That potent urge, real hunger, resonated with the power that he could reach into, and in his distant thoughts he could begin to feel the beat of human hearts, the brittle fragility of their lives, and their capacity to sate his own needs.

He let this old emotion flood his mind again, nearly wept with the potency of it, and turned his eyes to fix on a small settlement. Though miles beyond sight, there was now nothing that could hide even such a small place from him. He could hear their lives as if they were already in his hand. The pulse of their lives fluttered against his consciousness the way wind caressed the skin.

He smiled to himself, despite his circumstances.

* * *

"I don't like that." Beriven muttered to himself, as he pulled himself into his pants. It was early in the morning, even for orphaned children used to the harsh realities of life.

"Like what?" Marius asked, confused. The two of them, along with Thug, had been picked to walk through the other abandoned warehouses in the district, to find one suitable for a school.

Marius turned to Beriven, who was staring out the window into the distance. His hands were clenched at his sides, and his face was unusually pale.

"Out there. In the distance, beyond the hills. Something dark. I don't like it." Beriven said again.

"Berry, all I see is a sunrise, green trees, green grass, and a flock of birds. There probably isn't a single storm cloud on this side of the moon." Marius insisted, tying flimsy shoestrings together.

"It isn't something you see that way, Merry. I dunno, I..." Beriven trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with his thoughts.

"You're seeing things?" Marius asked.

"Not like that." Beriven insisted, scowling. "I'm not seeing things that aren't there. I'm not going crazy. It's just..." he paused, for breath. "I can see people."

It was a testament to his friendship that Merry didn't respond with a barbed retort. Instead, he smiled and waited for Beriven to continue.

"I see them like little candles, well, most people at least. If I think about it. Like right now, I can see Thema, Bug, Tha'varr and Mystery all sleeping in the other room. But I don't really see them, I see these small pinpoints of light that I know are them. I know, because I recognize their colours."

"Colours?" Merry asked, as he finished tying his shoes.

"Yeah. Thema and Bug are both bright yellow. There this impression that comes with seeing them, it's like," here, Beriven paused again, in thought. "It feels like hope. Like I'm looking at hope."

"Hope is yellow, and you see it in them. That's neat, Berry." Marius admitted.

"Actually, it's more than that, because when I look for those lights, I can see them through walls, through entire buildings. I don't think it matters how far away they are, except that they get smaller as they're further away." Beriven added.

"Mystery is a little strange, he doesn't stay one colour. He swirls with white and brown. I don't know why. Thug is a kind of reddish brown, and Tha'varr is dark, dark green. Anita, well, she used to be blue, like the sky. Today, it has this black stain in it, and I think it's because of what she went through last night.

"So you can see people through walls. Is that why you managed to warn Tha'varr in advance?" Marius asked.

"No. I've sort of had it for a long time, but it never happened that often, not enough to recognize it. Until last night, when I had that blaster rifle and was coming back for you all."

Marius nodded, and checked the small clock on the wall. "We've gotta go, Berry."

"Right." Beriven said, finishing his own shoes and heading for the door. "But Merry, the wierdest one was you."

"Me?" Marius asked, incredulously. "What was wierd?"

"Your colour didn't surprise me. You looked white, like the way those atmospheric storms get during a solar flare. A bright white film. It reminded me of that time you came through for us when you first found us the warehouse, or managed to get the Boss' goons off their backs. Like having your faith in someone proven to you.

But the weird thing is, you're not a candle. You're more like a fog." Beriven explained. Marius looked at him strangely, not speaking. Beriven promptly hurried to elaborate.

"Well, you aren't just a candle, You shine like one, but you also spread around, and the light kinda envelops around you, like steam. It's hard to describe."

Marius nodded again, and smiling, said "Hey, you know, that reminds me of that story I've been reading. You know, the one in that book I have. Exiles of Tython."

"Oh, yeah. Pali Trivish. She could use her power, that Ashla thingy, to see people from really far away." Beriven remembered. "She saw that evil sorcerer guy from really far away. Like a whole couple of cities. She saw him like he was a blot of ink or something."

Beriven thought for a moment, lost in thought, as Marius said "Hey, that's kinda like you! It might mean your a sorcerer too!"

Beriven sputtered in incredulity, clearly disbelieving, and turned to Marius to say so, but his friend's expression forestalled him.

Marius, he realised with a start, was taking this theory seriously.

"Stop that! Stop it right now! I'm not some sorcerer! I'm not!" Beriven exclaimed, his octave rising with the decibels. Marius smiled at his denial, which only helped to set off his temper.

"You don't know a thing you're talking about! What do you know? You're a kid, on a backwater moon with a book of stories about a planet that probably doesn't exist!" Beriven exclaimed.

"But these sorcerers are real. At least, the two on Coruscant were. One's still alive, as far as anyone knows. The Lord of the Obsidian Throne and the Thousand year Emperor, they both lived for a really long time. How else did they live that long? Technology can't do it." Marius insisted, though Beriven was past hearing his friends reasoning.

Not seeing it coming, Beriven's fist connected with Marius right at the chin. It swung him around, spinning him on the spot, and caused him to sprawl on the ground.

Beriven stared at his fist, horrified, and knelt down beside Marius, who cupped his battered chin in his hands.

"I'm sorry, Merry! I don't know why, I can't-" Beriven began, but Marius cut him off with a wave of his hand.

"Berry, I'm gonna go find Anita. You should cool your head while I'm gone." Marius insisted, stepping out the door.

"Merry! I'm sorry!" Beriven exclaimed, though if Marius heard him, he gave no indication of it. In moments, he was out the door, the flickering haze of his light gradually fading into the blurry haze of people in the market.

His chin glued to his chest, and his gaze fixed on the floor, Beriven left to join Thug to look through other warehouses.

* * *

Marius sullenly stomped through the market, holding his bruised chin in one hand. He passed silently through the market, ignoring the stalls and the merchants who shouted to him.

He was halfway towards the Stump, by the time he realized he had no idea where Anita was. He knew she was scouting the merchant quarter for prospective jobs, asking anyone who would give her the time of day, but he had nothing more specific to go on.

With a sigh of frustration, he started scanning the market, looking through one length of stalls to the next, scanning carefully to make sure he didn't overlook her.

It was with more than a little surprise, when he found her, huddled with her arms wrapped around her legs, at the edge of the fountain in front of one of the spacer merchants, with her head buried against her knees.

He stepped up to her, and rested a hand on her shoulder, and asked "What's wrong?"

She jerked away, and raised an arm to defend herself, before she caught sight of him. "Oh, Merry!" She exclaimed, and her features twisted into an expression of grief, before she fell back down to the marble and cried again.

Marius sighed, and sat down next to her. He wrapped an arm around her, and pulled a little, awkwardly trying to hold her.

She didn't resist, and let him hold her as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry." Marius said, quietly.

There was a hitch in her sobs, though it didn't stop.

"I shouldn't have let you go out alone today. That was stupid of me." Marius explained, with a sigh.

"Don't be sorry." Anita said. "You didn't do anything."

"But that's just the thing." Marius said. "I know I didn't do anything. That's the problem. I did nothing. Not when we've all gone through what we did. I did nothing to make sure you were okay today. I didn't think about it. Didn't think about how you, how all of us, were really doing."

He sighed again. "Orphans, just like us, died yesterday. If things had worked out just a little different, that might have been us who died. And then we're given the secret of secrets, and told what happens if we don't protect it. Now here I am, trying to get us all to pretend that nothing's changed, or that we can just pretend it didn't happen."

She cried harder as he spoke. "Merry, I k-killed one of them."

Marius nodded, silently. Eventually, Antia added "I didn't want to kill him. I didn't think I would. I just didn't want him to hurt us. I saw that knife, I saw it and had to hurt him, to keep him from hurting us."

"You didn't murder him, Anita." Marius insisted.

"But I did!" Antia exclaimed.

"No. You didn't. You hurt him. Defending us, from a guy with a knife. You hurt him, bad enough to get him to stop. That isn't murder."

"Killing is murder!" Anita said, though she didn't sound as certain.

"No. You killed someone protecting us. You didn't even kill him, he just bled out because his buddies didn't know how to take care of him. People loose eyes and don't die. A couple of the Boss' thugs are missing an eye." Marius responded, and Anita began to look convinced.

Anita sighed, but her sobs stopped for a few moments. "Merry, it isn't so simple. I killed him. I wanted to hurt him. It's something I don't know if I can accept." She turned to him. "I wanted to kill him, Merry. I wanted him to hurt. And I liked that I managed to hurt him."

Marius bit his tongue, and slumped in his seat. Though, to his credit, his arm stayed firmly wrapped around her.

"That's okay, Anita." Marius said, after a moment.

"No, it's not!" She shouted, pulling away from him.

"Bad word choice." Marius muttered. "I mean, it doesn't change what you are to us. What you are to me. I'm still your friend. You liking that you managed to stop a guy twice your size from hurting us isn't gonna change that."

"You make it sound really silly when you say that." Anita said, holding her head up and looking Marius in the eyes.

"It's cause that's the way it is. You're not some monster that likes hurting people. If you were, I bet you wouldn't be crying right now." Marius insisted.

She sighed and shook her head. Though a smile, faint as a single shaft of sunlight, danced along her lips.

Marius leaned back, and sighed. "You know, I thought we'd get a whole lot of stuff for dinner tonight. A big dinner, like a feast or something. To celebrate the fact that we're all still alive. We could ask the place Thema and Bug work at, if they could whip up an extra roast for us."

Anita smiled, and stood up. She held out her hand, and with a smile on her face, said "That sounds like a good plan, Merry."

He took her hand and she pulled, surprisingly hard. He was jerked upright, and off balance, stumbled forward a step.

For the rest of his life, Marius would remember that smile on Anita's face. Her eyes, still wet from crying, held a glee that set his heart racing, and decades later, could still make his throat dry. Her smile was wide, triumphant, as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him soundly on the lips.

The world went dark and fuzzy, and the next coherent thought Marius could muster was that Anita and pulled away again, and was talking to him.

"You should get on that party tonight, Merry. I've got work to do right now." She smirked, and gently pushing him away, turned and skipped away into the market.

Marius sat back down on the ledge of the fountain, his capacity to think broken, and a bemused, charmed stupor lay where his consciousness used to reign.

* * *

The extra roast had been a surprisingly simple request, as the owner, now quite a bit pudgier than Marius remembered him being when he had asked for work, happily told him that he had been looking for a way to say thanks, for the help Thema and Bug were providing.

Tha'varr and Mystery were still at the warehouse, and cheerfully took to the task of preparing this party that Marius wanted to put together. It took only a few hours, and some careful manuvering to take the roast back out of their oven again, but they were well prepared by the time Beriven and Thug returned from their mission.

"I think we found it!" Thug exclaimed, as they slipped in through the doors. "Nice warehouse, the power works, it even has a shipping crate full of dishes. It isn't quite as warm, though, since it has more windows."

"Woah!" Beriven exclaimed, staring intently at the ocean of food splayed out in their common room. "What's the occasion?" He asked.

"I figured we'd wait for everyone, but I think we need to celebrate being alive." Marius said.

"Merry, I'm sorry, I really am." Beriven pleaded again, when he caught sight of his friend. Merry was holding a makeshift tray full of baked trashidons, still sealed from the grocery store.

The smile Marius offered had a glimmer of humor in it. "I called you a sorcerer. I got what I deserved."

Anita poked her head through the door, and asked "Why'd you call him that, Merry?"

"Anita!" Marius jumped, nearly spilling his cargo. "When did you get back?"

"Were you a part of this food bonanza?" Beriven asked.

"No. This whole thing is Merry's idea." Anita responded, ignoring Marius' question. "But I'll like his idea, because he helped cheer me up today." She stepped past them and into the kitchen, leaning around Tha'varr and asking how she could help.

Beriven looked sharply at Marius, who only shrugged.

Beriven shook his head, and said "I'm gonna use the shower. Bug and Thema should be back in about half an hour."

It took almost that long simply to get the rest of the dinner laid out, and the others had barely sat down to begin cutting the roast when Thema and Bug returned, with deep grins on their faces.

"I heard! The little old man couldn't keep it a secret! He gave us a whole roast!" Thema exclaimed. "He normally makes almost thirty ducats for a whole one!"

"My mouth has been watering since we left work." Bug admitted.

They sat down and joined the others, trying to contain their excitement as they snatched at their food, and as a group, ate as if they had the first day they found the disenfranchised grocer, and their last member.

Marius, between bites, finally managed to raise his glass in the air, and said aloud "To Odeal, the owner of Miss Vennet's, for the roast!"

The others cheered in assent, though for a few of them, the cheers were muffled slightly by the food in their mouths.

Bug was next to pick up the theme, who swalled hard, and held up his own glass. "To our sleeping bags, for being water-proof!"

The cheer was louder this time, and a little longer, as a few of them started laughing. It had taken a long time to clear the water from the bottom of the warehouse.

As the cheer subsided, Thema held up her own glass, and said "to food!" She cried, and the group fell onto the floor, clutching their stomachs as they laughed so hard they threatened the food stuffed in their stomachs.

A few minutes, and gales of laughter eventually passed, after which could only be heard labored breathing, as they all stopped for air.

The next person to hold their glass in the air was Beriven, who said "To Merry's storytelling! Which you really need to finish soon."

The others voiced similar sentiments, with Thug in particular insistent that Merry wrap up Pali Trivish's story as soon as he possibly could.

Hesitantly, as if afraid to, Anita held up her own glass, and the entire room went silent.

"To friends who refused to sell me out, even when it endangered them to do it." Anita said, softly.

The others raised their glasses high in the air.

"To friends who refused to not let me be a friend." Tha'varr added.

"To the family we make for ourselves." Mystery finished, and they all punched their glasses into the air one more time, and drank deeply.

The night passed swiftly for the, and the days ahead were filled with purpose, as the orphans began a serious attempt at offering their fellows a way off the streets. It was far from perfect, a task that they knew would never be finished, but even at that tender age, they knew to never measure success by how much was left undone.

But as Beriven stared out into the night, his strange new sight would still catch the distant, dark cloud to the west, a dark and menacing presence that felt, disturbingly, like the satisfaction that came from defeating an enemy.


	14. Interlude, Storytime III

Their party lasted well into the night, after the sun set behind Calousan, and the long darkness of the lunar eclipse began. It was, to even longtime residents of the moon, an eerie thing to see a side of the sky covered with nothing but darkness, and the orphans were no exception.

"I think Merry should finish that story." Beriven said, as they sat on the roof, staring at the sky. A small flash of light appeared overhead, in front of the sky that the planet now blocked, a sign of someone exiting hyperspace.

"Yeah!" Thema and Bug both shouted, and they both cringed. Anita and Beriven laughed aloud, and Marius smiled.

"Considering all we've been through, Merry, I'm with Beriven." Mystery said, and settled down onto a small jut in the wall. What Mystery said had a habit of happening, and the others grinned as they settled down into a circle, and waited patiently.

Marius sighed, and said "All right, you win. I kinda want to hear how it ends, too."

"You mean you haven't read ahead?" Beriven asked.

"Did you?" Anita asked, glaring hard at Beriven.

Having voiced her suspicion, it would have been impossible for Beriven to convincingly claim that he hand not, even if it were true. "No! Of course not!" He insisted, already certain of the outcome.

"Oh bull! You can't do that to us, just because we can't read as good!" Bug exclaimed. "It's unfair!"

"I'm with Bug." Thug said, and cracked his knuckles. The others, including Tha'varr, who had just started handing out the last of the crackers Marius had bought earlier, took a similar vein. Bug and Anita both threw the closest things they could find at him, and Tha'varr took bak the crackers she had set on his plate.

"I think Berry should read." Marius said, with a triumphant grin on his face.

The others smiled vindictively, and everyone turned to Beriven as one. "You got a problem with that?" Thug asked, menacingly.

"All right, all right." Beriven surrendered, waving his hand. "But seriously, this is like killing a gizka with a thermal detonator."

"I'll make tea!" Tha'varr exclaimed, delightedly, and dashed downstairs. The others followed, and Beriven hung back a little, until he and Marius were the only ones on the roof.

"How'd you rope me into this?" Beriven asked, dismayed.

"Your fault, for suggesting I read ahead." Marius responded. "Though I think there's less than half of the story left. Your voice shouldn't give out before then."

"What if my voice gives out, though?" Beriven asked.

"Bad things will happen." Marius warned, looking over to Thug.

Beriven shuddered. Grumbling about being dragged by the ear, he shuffled back against the wall and settled down with the book. He flipped through a few of the pages, and said "Once upon a time,"

"Hey, wait for Tha'varr!" Bug exclaimed, and the others laughed.

"Berry wasn't even reading from our story." Thug said.

"He wasn't even reading from a story in the book. None of them start that way." Marius added. "That is such a stupid start for a story, though."

"No it's not! It's a classic!" Beriven exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Marius. "Every great fairy tale starts that way!"

"Great fairy tale means bad story. We're way too old for fairy tales." Bug added, smiling.

Tha'varr stepped back inside, her arms filled with mugs. Thug and Anita both stood up to help her, taking a few from her hands and passing them to the others.

"Would you prefer 'A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away?" Beriven asked.

"Ooh, that's not bad." Anita exclaimed, clapping her hands.

"Except that neither Tython or Mandalore are in a far away Galaxy." Thema noted.

"Oh, would you start already?" Thug asked, rolling his eyes and cracking his knuckles.

"All right, all right!" Beriven said, and opened the book to the small piece of paper Marius had used to mark their place.

"Over the hours, Pali was asked by these stoic, grim faced and scarred warriors to recount to them, often struggling to hold their own tears, the sensations she felt as their comrades had fallen to the ion bombs that had claimed their lives.

She tried, as well as she knew, to tell them how their grim, unflinching determination, and their courage, could be felt through the Ashla, and how the manner of their deaths had made an impression on a power that permeated the entire galaxy.

"In death, their last thoughts, feelings, can be felt powerfully through the Ashla." Pali told them, as another small group of warriors crowded the doorway, keen to hear. "From most, you can feel them fear their fate, rail against how unfair they find it. It is common even among soldiers, to find them fear the end they knew would come. They regret dying, even as every action of their lives lead towards their death."

"When we fought on Tython, many of those who died feared death, as well. Most were scholars, who failed to believe that they might be killed for what they believed to be right. But a few of my friends, who knew battle from their earlier lives, had already reconciled themselves to their deaths. It wasn't that they looked to die, but what they were doing was important enough to them, that dying for it didn't frighten them. Some wept for the duties that others would have to shoulder in their place. Others died smiling, their hearts sang because they loved the opportunity to stand against the horrifying evil we fought. One left an echo in the Ashla that still lingers, like laughter, even now.

He was my teacher, and a warrior. I felt his death, half a world away, in the middle of a battle where tens of thousands died. He saw the end of the war, and the victory for our cause, and celebrated it with his last breath.

When I felt your comrades die, as each bomb when off, there was never one singular emotion. Some of you felt regret, having tasks left undone. There was the concern for the fate of those who would be left alive, and for the outcome of your war. Others felt the grim satisfaction of being worthy enough warriors that such weapons had to be used against them. But in their own way, none of them felt fear.

There was no pleading for live, or railing against the cruelty of fate. It is this strength that kept me here." Here, she stopped and smiled. "And, I suppose, because my ship has been vaporized."

General Barak held up an armored fist, straight into the air, and every eye in the room stared at him intently. "That's enough. Our guest has obliged our request, and told us a tale that we should keep alive, forever. General soldiers, you're dismissed. Officers will remain."

Most of the armored soldiers turned and departed, leaving perhaps a dozen soldiers standing in the corners of the room, all of them carrying their helmets in their hands, and their disruptor rifles strapped to their backs.

"Alturion Taramon. You did well to bring her here, especially by ambushing their patrol and using their transport to return. I trust someone on your squad deactivated their transponder?"

"Standard procedure, sir. Estan also checked at regular intervals to make sure it wasn't broadcasting anything." The Alturion replied.

"Good man. Ms. Trivish, if I may ask, you mentioned the foreign champion of Clan Amdor, the one that killed Landon Amdor, is a sorcerer of some kind. You called him a renegade from Tython."

Taramon turned to Pali and asked "When we first found you, you only suggested he was a sorcerer. You didn't say he was from Tython, or that you might know him."

"It was a recent revelation. That presence I can sense, in the distance, is familiar. I simply didn't recognize it before." Pali explained.

Taramon nodded, and asked nothing further.

"What can you tell us about this enemy of ours?" General Barak asked.

"He was a sorcerer, much as you know." Pali started, pausing to put her thoughts into words. "We knew him as Maras Trandaeu, a practitioner of the Bogan, the dark opposite of the Ashla. He loved conflict, and often sought challenges with enemies he thought were worthy, despite it endangering the outcome of the battle. He made a fearsome champion, but a poor general."

"A poor general? Then it's possible he's a tool, rather than the mastermind?" Taramon asked.

"A willing tool." Pali asserted. "He is likely using their dependence on him to assert his own ability to rule. Eventually, he will sit down on a throne."

"Not if there's a warrior left alive on this world." One of the other officers asserted, and every other warrior in the room bashed their armored gauntlets against their chest-plates, in what Pali now knew to be the customary salute of these Mandalorians.

"How did he prefer to fight?" Taramon asked.

"With his powers. Though he could break bones by pushing with the Bogan, he preferred to fight with a sword, often for the sake of demonstrating how his powers of foresight could allow him to defeat impossible odds. There was a story of him killing nine men, all armed with blasters, with only a sword."

There were appreciative whistles from the officers in the room.

"So the bastard did use this mysterious power of yours to defeat Landon." General Barak noted. "Just nothing overt."

"After a while, using some aspects of the Ashla, or the Bogan, become as natural as breathing. It would be as separating us from our own limbs." Pali said.

General Barak nodded. "Thank you for that." His next words were a little louder, and directed to everyone in the room. "As you may have heard, we have intelligence from a variety of sources, including our guest, that indicates clan Amdor do not have any more Ion bombs.

This is important, because any efforts to strike against them since they started using those bombs was forestalled by the concern that they had more. Also, since their most imposing threat has been used up, I believe that a sudden, decisive strike against Amdor's spaceport would see many of the other clans rise up and join us." The General explained.

"You suspect, sir, that if we seize the spaceport, and they don't retaliate with another Ion bomb, that we will prove to the clans that Amdor no longer has them?" Taramon asked.

"Exactly. Soldiers, your thoughts?"

"It sounds like a real plan, General." One of the others said. "Sure beats sitting around, waiting to get slaughtered."

"Sir," Taramon said. "If we seize Amdor's spaceport, and manage to persuade Mardeth and Iasan to deny the fleet their ports, we could end up holding our enemy's best weapon hostage."

"Their ships short of fuel, their spaceport in enemy hands, a part of their army smashed by an attack they weren't expecting..." General Barak had a fierce grin on his face, and his eyes seemed to light up as he contemplated what might come. "And their champion dead. That's going to be a central piece of this operation. Deny him an escape route, engage him with overwhelming force, and finish him off."

"Pali, you said you could see him with that sorcery of yours?" Taramon asked.

"I can. I have to be close to be specific, but even right now, I can give you a direction and a general distance. He hasn't left the city he was in earlier." Pali answered.

"Good." The General said. He tapped the desk, and one of the officers unfurled a map of the Capital. The planning took the better part of the night, and only afforded them a few hours of sleep before their mission began.

Here, Beriven coughed hard, and made a great show of drinking his tea. "Sorry, my throat."

"All right, if it hurts that much." Marius said indignantly, holding out his hand.

"No way! Beriven gets to finish!" Thug insisted.

"But Merry reads better." Tha'varr said softly, and the others looked at her strangely for a long moment. Beriven grinned, Thug scowled a little, while both Anita and Thema looked to each other, with a knowing smile on their lips. Even Mystery, normally quite stoic, smiled a little.

Bug, completely oblivious, said "Yeah, he does. I'd rather enjoy this story than make Berry suffer."

The others scowled at Bug, but didn't disagree, as Beriven handed Marius the book.

"So let's see," Marius said. "The dawn came swiftly as the huge red star climbed the horizon, leaping swiftly past the hills and into prominence. As it rose, so did the durasteel clad Mandalorian warriors, who through years of drills put on their armor and assembled their weapons with the deft precision of long practice."

Marius looked to Beriven and said "Gizka barf, Berry, you skipped over about ten pages worth of description."

"I wanted to finish the story before the end of the month." Beriven replied, scathingly. "At the pace you were reading, we'd be adults before you started another story."

"I didn't hear you complaining when you weren't reading." Marius countered.

"Stop fighting and read, already!" Thema hissed, and when the others failed to disagree with her, Marius eventually took the book up and continued.

"Among soldiers, the dawn before battle is silent in trepidation, as men and women with lives, hopes and ambitions far removed from the battlefield shoulder the demands of their profession. But for warriors, true warriors, the morning before battle was a time of celebration. Well known veterans would boast of deeds soon to be done, and those looking to make a name for themselves would jockey for a position in the vanguard.

In the camp, surrounded by men who lived for the moments to come, only Pali watched the rising sun without a smile.

She sat on the roof of the compound, her short vibroblade disassembled in front of her, carefully cleaning its components. Behind her, the darkness fled as the light marched along the fields, inky shadows giving way to rich colors and vibrant sounds. Birds would appear, and the occasional shadowy shape of one of Mandalore's famed beasts, fully as large as a building, could be seen in the distance.

Pali watched the shadows as they fled from the dawn, and as she watched, hoped her own battle would go so well.

In the distance, despite the dawn, the black presence of her enemy from an old war hung against the dawn, devouring the light that came from the people in the city, drowning the light of Mandalore's immense sun.

"How did you defeat them, back on Tython?" A voice asked from behind Pali, who looked over to see the now familiar face of Taramon, who leaned against the access railing that lead to the roof. His face held no mirth, and despite the fierce gleam in his eyes, he made no attempt to express his anticipation for the coming battle.

"From what I've heard, and what you've told me, the practitioners of your side of this power aren't much for battle or even learning about combat. Sure, they probably had a few other people like you, who were used to war, but I can't imagine you were enough to make up for a whole religion of people who loved combat."

Pali shook her head sadly, and said "The Bogan doesn't enjoy conflict. And neither do its practitioners, particularly. They seek victory, conquest, and dominion. It's a strange affliction, a poisoning of the perspective that prolonged use of the Bogan inflicts, until it eventually enslaves those who use its power.

Those who lead them were quick to avoid a confrontation they might loose, or risk themselves personally. As for us, while we avoided conflict, were more than willing to sacrifice ourselves if it meant stopping them. In the end, when their leadership faltered against our resilience, their unity fractured, and instead of one strong enemy, we faced dozens of weak ones."

Taramon said nothing for a long moment, staring at the sunrise. "Sounds like these sorcerers are more dangerous alone, than in a group. I wondered, if we Mandalorians had found a kindred spirit in this enemey of yours."

"Have you?" Pali asked.

"The furthest thing from it. The strength of a warrior of Mandalore lies in the strength of everyone he fights with. Our weapons are only as good as the craftsmen who make them. Our leaders only as good as far as their orders are obeyed. Our ships as good as our mechanics. There is no disunity in us." Taramon replied. He sighed then, and added "I'm actually saddened a little, by that."

"Because they'll never be an enemy worth fighting?" Pali asked.

"Exactly." Taramon said, with a sigh. "Ah well, at least we have one sorcerer to fight." His voice quivered a little with excitement. "You say he killed a dozen men with just a sword? Even if they were armed with blasters?"

"Only nine. When you surrender yourself to the Bogan, given yourself to its will, you can gain a sense of the immediate future, and can anticipate threats to your life before they happen. Maras was renowned for his capacity in that regard."

"So you say he can dodge blaster fire?" Taramon asked. When Pali nodded, he grinned to himself, and began fiddling with his disruptor rifle. "Nothing rapid fire and concussion rockets won't solve."

Pali reached down, and reassembled the pieces to her vibroblade, testing the finished product in her hand as she listened attentively to its quiet whirling. "When do we leave?"

"In five minutes. I was actually sent to collect you." Taramon said, sheepishly.

They looked at each other intently for a long moment, as something passed unnoticed between them. Grinning, they holstered their weapons, and Taramon offered Pali a disruptor pistol, which she willingly took and holstered at her side. Together, they marched down to the mustering areas, and left for the battle to come.

"Hey, can I take a quick break?" Marius asked. "I need to drink a bit of this tea." Looking guiltily to Tha'varr, he picked up the now cold cup and took a few quick gulps.

"If you don't like it, just say so." Tha'varr said, rolling her eyes.

"And offend you? Merry would sooner stab himself in the eye with a spoon." Anita said, with a smirk.

"If he doesn't take the spoon out of his mug, he might do that." Beriven mused, as Marius took a few deeper sips. The spoon swung precariously and rapped him on the nose, and he coughed as he swallowed a mouthful of cold tea.

The others laughed, even Tha'varr, as Marius tried to wipe as much of the tea as he could off of his chest.

"At least he didn't get the book." Thug said.

"I think you better finish now, Merry. If you stop again, you'll injure yourself before you finish." Bug said, and the others nodded in amused agreement.

"Okay, okay." Marius muttered, and picked the book up again.

"The briefing was surprisingly simple, with General Barak, a confident, almost amused grin plastered to his face, describing in intimate detail exactly what he wanted his officers to accomplish with their respective assignments. He didn't give specific orders or targets, but mentioned specific objectives and goals, and then laid out what their scouting reports had said about enemy strength.

By the end of the briefing, the officers looked almost as if they were the ones who had given the assignments out, for how well they seemed to know what they were going to do.

What Pali managed to gather, was that the small company Taramon had been assigned, which included the mostly recovered Radavan and Estan, were tasked with finding and killing the sorcerer.

"The annoying part, is that we have to sit and wait, while everyone else stars this battle for us." Estan said, scathingly.

"It's to force the enemy to engage, so that they're not monitoring our insertion." Taramon said. "Believe me, we'll see more action today than most warriors get in a year. Mandalorians will cheer when they remember today."

They loaded their gear into a small dropship, and a small crew inspected the parachutes one last time before the strapped them onto their backs.

"A parachute insertion?" Estan asked.

"High Altitude, Low Opening. Only a hundred paracts above sea level." Taramon explained hurriedly. Pali couldn't help compare him to a small child with a present.

"That's cutting it close. The spaceport's launch cannon is almost that high." Estan noted, but he was also grinning.

Pali shook her head and muttered something to herself.

Shortly, they were buckled into their seats, and the only sound to be heard inside was the buzzing of the radio chatter as the Mandalorians marched to war. Calm, collected voices became more frantic as they began to join the battle, and the comm line was soon drowned in requests for artillery strikes and reports on the position of enemy forces.

Taramon grinned and turned to Estan. "Sounds like they're having fun down there."

Pali turned to them, and said "Our target's still in the city. It looks like the large communications tower in the downtown core."

"Wait, wait, is this another villain sitting in the top floor in the tallest tower in the city?" Beriven asked.

Marius shrugged, and Beriven rolled his eyes.

"Let me guess, it's raining in the city, the storm clouds are thick and dark, and the tallest tower stands ominously against the stark and foreboding spread of the city." Beriven muttered, scowling. "So clique."

Marius glared at him angrily. "Can I read now?"

Beriven waved his hand lazily, and Marius continued.

"The ship's engines flared to life, and the Mandalorian warriors with Pali shouted encouragement as the ship lifted gently off the ground, and then rocketed forward and out into the sky. The roar of the engine eventually drowned out the shouts from the occupants, and the stopped, to stare grimly towards the city as it's outer sprawl quickly came into view.

The ship banked into a steep climb, and the thrusters burned with new vigor, pushing its occupants deep into its seats. Pali struggled to raise her hand, and turned her head to Taramon. "How many g's are we going though?"

"Four. Our pilot's a bit of a space jockey. Used to do risky high orbit entires through blockades near the Radamaw Void. There isn't a better pilot in the Galaxy, but there isn't anyone crazier."

"What's his name?" Pali asked.

"Travish Mortimer." Taramon replied.

"No way!" Bug exclaimed.

"You're serious!" Tha'varr added. "Mortimer? Like Gothe?"

"Careful. The galaxy is a big place." Thema added, and Beriven nodded in agreement.

"I'll ask Gothe about that." Marius said, grinning a little.

"The ship eventually leveled off, and by that time, the city was a small lattice of straight stitched etched along the skyline, the corridors for its larger rapid transit lines and spaceport the only discernible shapes. Even the capital tower, where Pali's deadly enemy lay, was only a small dot against the sprawl of the city." Marius contined.

"No rain." Marius added, grinning at Beriven.

"Without warning, the rear hatch on the ship opened up, and even with the environmental shield, the air suddenly turned cold. Taramon shivered despite himself, and even Pali, sustained by the Ashla, cringed at the feel of it.

"It's cold enough to freeze the Mercury." A shout came on the intercom, unfamiliar to Pali. Taramon grinned a little, as he unbuckled his seat harness and strapped on his helmet.

"Strap on your helmets, and get a good fit on them. Unless your breathing through your internal suits, you'll get the bends before we hit the ground." Taramon added, then turned to Pali. "You have your oxygen tank?"

"Of course." Pali smiled, as she strapped the small tank to her waist.

"All right." Taramon turned to everyone, who immediately assembled near him. "You all know your staging area. We're dropping the marker first, and we assemble there. Once that half-hour elapses, break radio silence. Channel twelve. We're after speed, not stealth. It's believed our enemy will be able to see, or at least sense our accompanying VIP, so our only advantage is in how fast we pull this off." Taramon explained crisply, with a sense of authority that the soldiers rapidly responded to.

"Warriors of Mandalore, what do you seek?" Taramon asked, loudly.

"Battle!" The others shouted, in concert.

"Warriors of Mandalore, why do you seek battle?" He asked again.

"To find a foe worth fighting!" The other cheered again.

"What do you seek in battle?" Taramon asked, a third time.

"A fight worth telling!" Came the answer.

"And who will tell of our deeds?" Taramon asked, finally.

"The rest of the Galaxy, when they hear about it!" The others cheered, loudly, as they marched to the shield.

As Taramon stepped in front of it, the flickering haze dissapeared, and air rushed out of the ship. Eagerly, the Warriors of Mandalore stepped out onto the ramp, and fell into the clear sky towards their war."

Estan fell first, silently slipping off the ramp and disspaearing from sight. He was followed swiftly by a dozen others, all of whom cheered loudly as they plunged into the frigid air. In moments, only Pali and Taramon remained.

"Relax. It's a much better parachute than the one attached to your escape pod." Taramon said, and Pali could hear the grin in his voice.

Pali smiled at the sentiment, and leaning forward, let herself tumble out of the ship, and into the open air.

The fall, despite her helmet, took her breath away, as the heavy gravity of Mandalore took hold of her, and tried its best to tear her out of the sky. Clouds rushed past her sight in a sudden fury, as the dots that marked the distant city grew into shapes.

Behind her, she could see the Alturion, Taramon, in a headlong dive towards the surface, and grinning, angled herself so that she too held her head towards the ground, like a bullet.

Below her, in the city, she could see flashes of light spread along its western buildings, and small streaks of grey seemed to accompany the sudden eruption of large explosions, that flared between buildings. Even with her helmet, and the roar of the wind, she could hear the sounds of those explosions.

Silently, she closed her eyes and focused on the Ashla, feeling its presence permeate her existence, and stared at the dark presence in the tower, her implacable enemy. She stared and focused, and knew that in that tower, staring out, her enemy was staring at her in turn.

Around him, the shroud of his presence blocked her sight; any person nearby would be thoroughly hidden from her senses. He could have half a brigade of soldiers nearby, and she wouldn't know it.

Below him, and around him in the nearby buildings, there were only a few hundred people, scattered into small groups of a dozen or less. Far more than the small party that accompanied her, but far fewer than there would have been without General Barak's assault.

She opened her eyes again, to find the world much closer than she had last seen it, and gripped the rip cord on her parachute as she shot towards the ground. Below her, small grey plumes suddenly popped into the air, in a small cluster just below her. She tilted her body towards those plumes, and waited while she watched Taramon as he still plummeted ahead of her.

Startlingly close to the ground, Taramon pulled his own parachute, and she ripped her own. The small lead chute caught the air, and pulled the rest of her bag out into the air. The sudden hault was startling, as her body was jerked from terminal velocity to a lazy featherfall. Catching her breath, Pali disconnected the oxygen tank, and took a deep breath as she drifted through the last bit of distance until her feet comfortably touched the ground.

She quickly took off her helmet, and tossed the Parachute bag aside, drawing her vibroblade and a disruptor pistol. She favored the combination for her ability to hold each in a single hand, allowing her a versatility that served her well as she fought on Tython.

In the distance, a figure gestured by pounding his hand against his chest, and then saluting, the gestures the soldiers on the mission were given to identify themselves. Quickly, she returned the gesture, and hugging the wall of a nearby building, darted across the city block.

The Mandalorian's armor was familiar, and she smiled as she slowed in her approach. "Estan." She nodded in greeting. "Where's the rest of the company?"

"Taramon has a dozen soldiers and is moving to the front gates of the building. He's going to open as many entrances as he can, and then cut inside. Hopefully, the rest of the squad manages to group up and join in before they finish. We're supposed to find a safe hole to hide in, and wait for an opening to enter."

Pali nodded, and asked "The building Maras is holed up in, is it the capital building of Mandalore?"

"Sort of. It's where most clan meetings are held. It's officially the headquarters of a trading consortium, but since they took over Clan Amdor, it's become the headquarters of the government." Estan explained.

"I see. So what's our mission?"

"I've been sent with enough explosives to level a city block. Which is the idea. I set these charges on the foundation of the building, and we level it. This was supposed to be plan B, but Taramon's been listening to radio chatter coming from what he suspects are a lot of soldiers. He figures we don't have the luxury of an assassination any more."

"I see." Pali said. "Let's get moving then."

They skirted the edges of buildings in near silence, Pali using her sight to avoid curious eyes. Eventually, they managed to make it to the Capital building without incident, and arrived to find a firefight well underway.

"Shit." Estan muttered.

A small group of armored warriors were hunkered down behind a makeshift barricade of newly fragmented rubble and the smoking wreck of a transport. All around them, at the ends of the street and from the windows of the capital, disruptor fire shot at them, keeping them pinned in place.

"Alturion!" Estan shouted into the comm, crouching behind the building. "Are you under fire?"

The response was almost immediate, and came from a voice that was calm, measured, and quick to the point "No, but they're ours. Is Pali with you?"

"She is, sir." Estan responed quickly, though the tone of his voice betrayed a hint of surprise.

"Good. Plan B isn't going to work. Our squad has kicked the hornet's nest, so there's no way you're getting the bombs in there without someone else dismantling them after you."

"Then what's the plan, sir?" Estan asked.

Rocket fire interrupted the response, as explosions rocked the makeshift barricade their allies were huddled under. It rocked, and pieces of it blew apart, but it held. They could hear a sigh of relief over the comm.

"We've succeeded in keeping our target from taking flight. Right now, we need to kick our way through the defenses. Standby."

As Taramon finished speaking, rocket fire erupted from quiet corners of the area, and sped towards the front entrance. The large doorway erupted in black smoke and brilliant flame, and the thick smoke that now hung over the street was impossible to see through.

"All groups, inside. Sweep the corridors for resistance, and then work your way up. Estan, does Pali have a fix on our target?"

Estan turned to Pali wordlessly "About halfway up the building." She stared for a moment, then added "He has about a dozen guards with him."

"Good. Get inside, we'll regroup at the stairs." Taramon said, and the line went dead.

Without hesitating, Estan whipped around the corner, and setting the butt of his disruptor rifle against his shoulder, ran towards the entrance. Pali followed him half a heartbeat behind, darting quickly to the side of the building for cover.

Through the smoke, they could see a sudden eruption of white disruptor blasts pounding into the windows of the capital, smashing glass and kicking cement into the air. Pali followed Estan as they rounded the corner and started into the building, to find that they were the first ones inside.

Estan's disruptor rifle flared to life as he strafed into cover, darting out of sight as Pali rounded the corner and rolled into cover. Disruptor blasts lanced towards her, but collided harmlessly with the wall behind her until they turned, distracted by the sight of a dozen armored warriors unleashing their own firepower into the room.

Pali ran among the shadows, careful to keep herself behind cover, and crossed behind some soldiers barricaded behind a desk. She leapt quickly, her vibroblade punching through the Mandalorian's armor to plunge through his chest. Without wasting a breath, she leveled her disruptor blaster at his closest companion, and fired just as he turned his head.

Her next shot took the third warrior before he could turn to swing his blaster at her, and she followed him down to the ground, ducking behind the barricade as enemy soldiers caught sight of her.

She cursed as a barrage of disruptor fire flashed over her head, and barely heard the soft clanging of a small, round object as it dropped into the barricade a few feet away from her.

It took her a precious second to remember what a thermal detonator looked like.

Cursing, she reached with the Ashla and too hold of it, flinging it out the window as quickly as she could before ducking for cover.

The explosion ripped the window frame apart, and blew pieces of the building across the room. The force of the explosion threw Pali, and the makeshift barricade, and sent them both tumbling across the room.

Her sight went black for too many heartbeats, as Pali struggled on the floor to orient herself. Around her, disruptor fire flared again, and as she focused and her hearing returned, the blaster fire dimmed until it grew quiet.

A helmeted soldier stood over her, and then knelt down beside her. "Pali," Taramon said, softly. "Are you okay?"

Pali smiled despite herself. "I will be. I just need a few moments to recover."

"That was quite the blast. Your lucky that soldier couldn't throw."

"He could. I managed to toss it out the window in time." Pali said, weakly, as she struggled to her feet. "We're winning?"

"So far. Estan took it pretty badly, diffused disruptor shot burned through his barricade and part of his helmet, he may have lost his eye."

Pali cringed, and her head sank a little. Grimly, she said "It's a good thing he has a spare, then."

Taramon laughed, and clapped Pali on the shoulder. "Now you're talking like a Mandalorian!"

"That's the dumbest line I've ever heard!" Bug exclaimed.

"I'm with Bug on that one." Anita added, quickly.

"It's actually kinda cruel. Pali doesn't seem like that." Beriven added.

"There's more." Marius said, hushing them up.

"But her heart was bitter, to find herself in the middle of a battle again, to be forced to take up a calling that she had fled to Tython to escape, and had been driven from her sanctuary because of.

"Six casualties. Nine soldiers didn't make it to the rendezvous on time. Counting Estan, we have about fourteen men left." Taramon listed, as casually as if he were doing inventory. "Pali, how many people do you see in the floors above us?"

Pali, turning her head away to hide the salt filled sting of tears welling in her eyes, scanned the building above her with her sight. "Fewer than forty. Besides the dozen near Maras, none of them are in groups larger than four."

Taramon nodded, and turned to some of the other soldiers nearby. "We'll take the stairs, no detours. Avoid any unnecessary firefights. We flash-weld the doors as we go up. Demork, Zavaen, take point. Let's go."

With that, the other armored warriors flowed into the stairwell, and started up the building. As they marched, a pair of soldiers would stop at each entranceway and pack a small tube of putty into the doorframe. After a few moments they would step back, check their work, and then light a small corner of the putty on fire.

As they marched, the stairwell was illuminated with the brilliant flare of bright red sparks as the metal of the door melted into the frame. No smoke rose from the light, the sudden transfusion of heat wasn't accompanied by fire.

They stormed up the stairs, almost without incident, until the ripping sound of disruptor fire began hammering at the sealed doors below. The sound, though faint, was enough for Taramon to pause, and shake his head sadly.

"Looks like we're crippling our escape route. Vance, Craigson, set charges on this floor. I want the next forty steps down to disappear." Taramon said, and the two armored warriors took to their tasks.

A few more floors, and a sudden flash silently illuminated the stairwell. Pali turned her head to look, and the brilliant white light flickered and died, as blocks of the stairwell simply tumbed down onto the stairs below them, breaking apart and ripping deep gouges into the support beams that held the stairs in place.

"Photonic burst." Estan explained. "Poor weapon to use against people, and looses most of its cutting power against the reflective surfaces of most metals, but on concrete or plastics, nothing works better."

Pali nodded, grimliy. She turned back to Estan, and asked "how's your eye?"

"Like you said, I have a spare." Estan said, curtly.

Through the Ashla, emotions can be sensed at times, particularly when the practitioner is paying attention. In Pali's case, at the moment, the war might very well have been forgotten.

"I'm sorry. For my words. The heart was not reflected by them." Pali said, softly. She bit her lip, as she spoke.

Estan started, and looked at her. "That's a strange apology."

"It isn't one I've ever used before. It's something my teacher once said to me." Her voice hitched, and she swallowed hard. "It was the last thing he ever said to me."

Estan nodded, and took off his damaged helmet. His face looked almost unmarred, though a small set of bandages now wrapped themselves around his head, covering his right eye. In his left, his gaze settled on hers and held her, intensely.

"Yesterday, you said he left something like an echo, when he died. Like laughter, the joy of winning a war worth fighting. What was he apologizing to you for?" Estan asked, softly.

"My teacher was telling me why I shouldn't come with him, when he went to die, for a small village of no strategic value, filled with people who hated us as much as our enemies, for the war that ravaged their world. He told me that I should live, to make use of his sacrifice. He knew that his own death, defending those villagers, would galvanize the population of Tython, and they would rise up and help us defeat our enemies."

She sighed, and said "Then he turned back to me, and apologized to me. Exactly has I did to you. He didn't say anything else, he didn't explain himself. He left then, and died in a small village."

Estan nodded, and took off his helmet. His left eye was badly burned, and much of the face around the eye was now a network of white flash burns and scars, ones that would never heal properly.

He smiled, despite the damage to his face, the war going on around them, and the pain he must have felt. "Looking at you right now, I think I can understand why he said that."

"What?" Pali asked, confused.

Estan made no move to explain himself, but with a flick of his wrist, tossed his helmet over the stairwell railing, and let it plummet down to the ground. Wordlessly, he turned and started up the stairs, and Pali, still confused, followed.

Taramon, a flight of stairs above them, stared quizzically at Estan, as they regrouped in front of a large set of doors.

"He's just past those doors. A dozen men guard him. Spread thinly in a semi-circle around the room, angled to the door." Pali affirmed. "We are going to loose a lot of people trying to get into that room."

Taramon shrugged beneath the armor, but said "Then we try a different tactic. Travers, do you still have the neurotoxin gas grenades I told you to pack?"

A helmeted warrior nodded in affirmation, and Taramon turned back to the door. "Punch a small hole through the door, and let the gas loose. Re-seal the hole, and set yourself up to open the door afterwards."

The soldiers saluted, and Taramon turned to Pali. "From here, watch him closely."

"But sir!" Estan exclaimed. "Our suits are insulated against almost any type of gas. It won't do anything to those warriors inside."

"But that sorcerer of theirs probably won't be wearing our armor." Taramon replied. "It was enough of a pain getting Pali to do it. If I'm right, then our target either tries to escape or dies before we have to fire a shot. If I'm wrong, we at least get a smoke screen when we enter. Do it."

Two soldiers took positions beside the slit in the doors, and one pulled out a small canister, similar to a grenade. The other took out a small container of something similar to putty, and began setting it in a small circle slightly larger than a Mandalorian's armored fist.

"It's the same stuff we used to cut the stairwell. You set the putty against the surface, and then set the photon deflectors around the mould. When you ignite the putty, all the light is refracted and focused through an extremely narrow point. A slight bit of oscillation on the deflectors prevent the cut from being clean, or else the surface friction from such a clean cut would be worse than not cutting at all." Estan explained.

"An improvised laser from an incendiary. I doubt anyone else in the galaxy would have come up with that." Pali remarked.

With a short hiss, the photonic burst flared slightly, and died out as quickly as it started. Quickly, the soldiers pulled the materials aside, and with the butt of a sidearm, knocked a small cylinder out of the door, where it clattered noisily in the room beyond. The soldier with the gas grenades pulled two pins, punched them through the hole in the door, and immediately set a small piece of metal against the end, which they started welding without wasting a heartbeat.

Blinking from the sudden flare of the photonic burst, Pali almost missed the sudden descent of the black haze as it dropped from view.

Startled, she looked below her feet, and watched as Maras Trandaeu threw himself into a window a dozen floors below them.

"Gizka barf, he just jumped at least a dozen floors." Pali exclaimed, running for the stairwell.

"Estan, after her! Travers, Nelison, concussion mines around the door, then we leave it behind. Everyone else, rappelling gear." Taramon shouted, pounding soliders on their backs as he scrambled for his own rope.

Pali, in those short moments, had already sprinted to the stairs, and was flinging herself down them almost an entire flight at a time. Her reflexes and movements, guided by the Ashla, lent her a grace and dexterity that was impossible for anyone, especially an armored soldier burdened with nearly his own weight in gear, to mimic.

"The stairwell!" Estan shouted, from a floor above her. He stopped, and started tying rope to the handrails along the stairwell. "It's missing almost eight floors!"

"Not a problem." Pali shouted back, and reaching the gap, stepped off the stairwell and plummeted through open air.

She took the fall without a hint of difficulty, landing softly at the edge of an open door seven stories down. Estan watched her disappear through the doorway, muttering 'my life for a jetpack' under his breath'."

"Woah!" Bug exclaimed. "I wish I could use the Ashla."

"I'd rather have the Bogan." Thug said. "It's more useful so far."

"They actually seem pretty similar." Beriven said. "I wonder if it's more about the person wielding it."

"I don't think so. Those scary sorcerers pop up all over the place, and they all use the Bogan. But only people from Tython seem to use the Ashla." Marius noted. "Anyway," He added, turning back to the book.

"She caught her adversary at the edge of her sight, and drew the disruptor pistol in her left hand has her right gripped the holstered vibroblade. The shadow, barely more than a silhouette against the skyline, whirled out of sight, forcing Pali to dash through the doorway.

She instinctively ducked her head a little as she stepped through, and disruptor fire ripped the wall behind her, coming from her right. She turned the blaster and started firing, dashing into the room and towards the cover of overturned tables.

Before she made three steps, the shadow pushed out his hand towards her, and she gritted her teeth as a wave of the Bogan took her off her feet and hurled her into the wall. She broke the plaster and much of the insulation, and even though she couldn't think, managed to roll a little into cover.

Disruptor fire crashed into the space she had only recently occupied. Without a word, she pointed to another table nearby, and taking hold of it through the Ashla, hurled it towards him.

The table was light, only made of wood, and the shadowed figure managed to raise his hand just before it reached him. Barely a foot away, it shattered into small pieces, and the small splinters were all that crashed against him.

Not wasting a moment, Pail took hold of the Ashla and hurled it at him. Before the splinters had thrown themselves past him, Pali's attack took him full in the chest, and hurled him against the wall in turn. The blow crashed him against the back wall, and he exhaled with a grunt, dropping his disruptor rifle onto the ground, pushing against the wall to stay standing.

Pali raised her pistol, and fired rounds towards him as he tumbled away and behind cover, leaving his rifle behind. With a smile, Pali took hold of it with the Ashla, and hurled it out of the open window.

"Ha ha! Pali!" She heard from behind a long table. "This Galaxy isn't nearly large enough! Have you been hunting us exiles all this time?"

Gripping the disruptor blaster in two hands for a steadier shot, she started strafing towards the other side of the table. "You think too highly of yourself, Maras. I haven't given you a moment of thought since I left."

With a howl of rage, the table was suddenly barreling towards her, and she ducked down to let it fly overhead. Barely a heartbeat behind it was Maras, a large, thin blade whirling towards her head.

She barely caught it with her pistol, turning the blade aside. Clipped pieces of her blaster flew across the room, and she rolled away, dropping the now useless weapon. She drew her own vibroblade, and slipped into a well-remembered sword from, her blade held loosely in one hand, point set straight at her enemy's chest.

"You remember your training, at least. Old Tichondreus would be proud of you." He smiled. "I've been looking for someone interesting to fight for almost four years."

"I heard you took almost half an hour to kill Landon Amdor." Pali noted, with a grin. "Gravity a little much for you?"

"I didn't want to impress these savages too much. It wouldn't do to have a dozen of them challenge me at once."

Pali smiled, unconvinced. "Either you're getting sloppy since you left, or this planet produces the most fearsome warriors in the galaxy. When you can see the future, a swordfight with someone who can't should only take moments." As she spoke, she darted forward, her sword flickering out towards his unguarded face.

He smiled in response, and letting his body roll a little, put himself just outside her reach and used the motion to set his blade for a swing.

But her thrust was a feint, as she used the motion to bring her sword down sharply towards his leading leg.

A duel between two people with a sense for the future is a very different thing than the clumsy sword-fights of primitive worlds. Each motion was not a response to the advances of an opponent, but a move to take advantage of a movement, to make any attack an opening to exploit.

Maras pulled his leg back to his side, and using the sudden inbalance in his stance, brought his own weapon down in a vicious two handed arc towards Pali's chest.

In turn, she leaned to her right, moving just far enough to avoid the vicious arc of the sword, and used the weight shift in a vicious cut angled up towards Maras' arm.

It was a duel even a year worth of choreographing could not make so precise, as each of them dodged and wove their weapons through the open air, their motions so precise that their swords passed within a hands breadth of each other, in each pass, without finding flesh.

Their swords never touched, as each motion was a motion to set up their next swing. Their breath was well timed, and the air around them practically rippled as the Asha and the Bogan wove their fates.

But as moments passed, and a locked combat hinged on the smallest of advantages, the gravity of Mandalore began to tell, an advantage that favored Maras. On every dozen passes of the sword, a small cut would score along the light armor that Pali wore, a small rent that barely slowed the blade.

Eventually though, Maras' blade passed between the segments, and Pali stumbled backwards, her arm bleeding from a deep cut along her left arm.

Armored boots landed hard against the doorway, and Estan landed in a crouch, both hands already gripping his disruptor rifle. Pali and Maras both turned their eyes to him instantly, and both of them raised their hands.

Maras pushed Estan through the Bogan, sending him tumbling down the next flight of stairs towards the ruined rubble below. Hardly finished with the motion, he was in turn hurled across the room as Pali threw him with the Ashla.

Two other soldiers touched down on the landing, and Pali recognized the markings on the armor as part of the soldiers in the assault squad. "To the right. He only has a sword!" She shouted, pointing towards Maras.

Growling in frustration, Maras turned and ran towards an open door, dissapearing into the corridor. The first two soldiers followed, and Pali took position behind them, until one of them waved her away, pointing to her injured arm.

Two more warriors touched down, one of them Taramon. He looked at her bleeding arm and said "patch her up, quickly."

The medic began dismantling the armored plates on her arm. "Estan. Maras pushed him back through the entranceway."

"It's fine. He got up almost as soon as he hit the ground." Taramon said. "How's that wound?" he asked the soldier now prepping gauze.

"Deep. Nerve damage is almost certain." The soldier replied.

"Shit. Pali, do you see where he is?"

"About halfway across the building, running towards the other stairwell."

Taramon relayed the information by radio, then turned back to Pali.

"We have two types of treatment for the field. One is meant to fully heal the wound, and the other is to put you back in fighting condition now. Keep in mind, fighting condition will likely make the muscle and nerve damage permanent." Taramon explained.

"The quick choice. He's still alive." Pali replied, and gritted her teeth.

Taramon nodded to the other soldier, who reached into his pouch, and started pouring a small foam onto the wound.

Pali screamed in pain, and beat her free fist against the wall.

"A cauterizing jelly." Taramon explained. "It will also give your nerves artificial connections, though it may not be perfect."

"That pain is vicious." Pali exclaimed, panting. She breathed hard, and the haze in her vision eventually cleared.

She scanned with her sight, and found the dark haze of Maras, almost right on top of the two soldiers who had went after him.

"Taramon! Maras is almost on top of them!" Pali exlcaimed.

Taramon hollered into the radio, but through her sight, she watched helplessly as one, then the other solider stumbled and fell.

"Respond!" Taramon shouted.

"They're dead." Pali said, softly.

From the radio, a new voice responded. "Cauterizing jelly hurts, doesn't it Pali?" The voice asked, the laughter in every syllable.

"No." Pali said, softly. "He knew we'd do this. He waited for the pain to blind me, for his ambush." She explained to Taramon.

Taramon grinned, wolfishly. "He really is that good. Is he coming back?"

"Yep. How long until this stuff works?" Pali asked.

"It should be working." Taramon said.

She twisted her arm a little, gritting her teeth in pain. "It'll have to do."

Two grenades rolled through the open doorway, and Pali barely managed to hurl them away with the Ashla before the exploded, sending all three of them sprawling on the ground.

Maras was through the door an instant later, his first few disruptor shots taking the other solider in the chest. He whirled towards Taramon, who's disruptor rifle started squealing in a menacing, high pitched drone.

Taramon fired first, a strange streak of grey instead of a disruptor bolt, and the wall behind Maras blew apart in a shower of grey smoke.

Maras rolled, his disruptor rifle spilling across the room, and Pali drew her sword, leaping forward. Maras pointed his hand, and Taramon went sprawling as he was pushed, almost at the shoulder, and sent spinning across the ground.

His sword stroke nearly caught Pali unprepared, and her desperate guard was poorly balanced in mind stride. She went sprawling along the ground, the flat of her own blade pounding against her wounded arm.

Maras pointed his hand at the loose disruptor rifle, and it flew from the ground, whirling in the air as it flew into his hands. He caught it, and pointed it at Taramon before he could draw his own sidearm.

Two quick blasts flared from the rifle, one taking Taramon through the shoulder, the other through the leg. Taramon groaned in pain, and fell to the ground, unmoving.

Seeing it coming, he braced himself and gathered the Bogan, shielding himself from the push that Pali sent through the Bogan. Almost lazily, he pointed the disruptor at her, but didn't pull the trigger as she dove behind cover.

"You see, Pali? Do you see how hypocritical you are?" Maras asked, pointing the disruptor blaster and firing it into the table. "You fight, and kill, willingly. But you hate us for using a power that lets us do that? Didn't your master say, that if you were going to fight at all, you should make sure you win? Poor fool."

"What do you know? We won that war." Pali exclaimed.

"Only because an entire planet's worth of farmers and civilians took up your cause. For every dozen practitioners on your side, only one of them was worth fighting. Your Master was a fool, to die in that worthless little hamlet for worthless little people. I watched him die, you know."

"You didn't." Pali said, with certainty. "We were on opposite sides of a different battle when it happened."

"True. Can't blame me for trying." Maras said, with a verbal shrug. "But I do get to watch you die, at least."

On the radio, in a small, soft voice, Estan asked "Taramon, Pali, come in."

Pali answered quickly, not bothering to try to keep it from Maras. "Pali here."

"Does he have one of our rifles?" Estan asked.

Smiling, Pali said "Yes."

An explosion erupted behind her, and she turned to see Maras rolling along the ground, his armor scored with burns, and the side of his face ripped to the bone. He gripped his face, screaming in pain, and grabbed his sword with his free hand.

Not wasting a moment, Pali leapt over the table, and sword extended, pushed him through the Ashla.

Maras was thrown into the wall, and let out an exclamation of pain as his eyes leveled with Pali. His one remaining eye met hers, just as her sword punched through his chest-plate.

He exhaled sharply, almost coughing, and his eyes widened a little.

"Oh." Maras muttered, in a short, confused sigh, before his head fell slack, and his last breath seeped past his lips, and joined the air.

A grunt of pain had Pali turn away from Maras, to Taramon, who had extracted the Bespin Soda canister, and was administering it to the wound in his leg. Despite the pain, with had nearly put another warrior comatose, Taramon was grinning, if feverishly, as he took the cannister and set it against his wounded shoulder.

"I'd rather keep the limbs, you know." Taramon said.

"What happened? With that rifle?" Pali asked.

"Every warrior, in case his weapon is taken, can overload the energy cells with a single button on their wrist." Taramon explained. "It usually isn't lethal, but it can hurt a lot."

"So Estan found the soldiers Maras killed." Pali said.

"That would be the case." Taramon said. He reached into his pockets, and drew out a small communicator. "Alturion Taramon, code Draconis 810. Put me through to Barak."

He turned the communicator to it's speaker setting, so that Pali could listen.

"Barak." A voice said, crisp and concise.

"Alturion Taramon. Primary target eliminated, secondary target's status unknown. Lost too many soldiers to track secondary target without a means to locate him."

"You sure? Because I'm communicating with a few soldiers from the capital right now, on terms for surrender. They say the head of clan Amdor died in a gas attack."

"An embarassing way for a Mandalorian to die, since he must not have been wearing his armor." Taramon reflected.

"But the Primary target is dead?" Barak asked.

"Affirmative. Pali's vibroblade is sticking out of his chest right now." Taramon responded.

"Good." There was a pause, then Barak asked "How was that sorcerer?"

"By all rights, we should be dead. He survived a sword-fight with Pali, ambushed his pursuit, and had us cornered."

"Sit tight. There shouldn't be any more pursuit, but don't trust anyone you don't know. We should be there in an hour. Out." And the line went dead.

Taramon sighed and leaned back, until Estan shuffled into the room. His armor was badly scored, dented in more than a few places, and his head was un-helmeted, disruptor scoring having carved lines along his cheek, and near his left eye.

Taramon caught sight of him, and grinned. "does he have one of our rifles. Then boom! A sorcerer who could kill nine armed soldiers with a sword, and he's done in by a mistake even a child wouldn't have made."

"He was still holding it?" Estan asked.

"Yep. Would you do this for me?" Taramon asked, pointing to his wounded shoulder. "I don't think I'll be able to stay awake through the pain."

"You already did your leg?" Estan asked.

"Yeah." Taramon sad.

"Scary tough." Estan muttered, before he stared spraying the soda.

Taramon grunted, then rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes. As he slipped into unconsciousness, Estan took a position near the doorway, keeping watch.

"I think I understand." Estan said, without looking away from the stairwell.

He turned back to her, and his battle-scarred face turned to regard her, with a warm, kind smile spread across the warrior's features.

"There's so much I want to say to you right now. How much you've done for us since you came here. The honour you've gained in our eyes, your skill in battle. Your willingness to pay homage to our own skill, despite how much you might hate what motivates us. But I can't say it all, and whatever I would say is a mangled imitation." Estan explained.

Pali nodded, and said "I owe you my life, you know."

Estan raised his undamaged eyebrow.

"Taramon and I were dead. He had me pinned behind some cover, a disruptor rifle in his hand. Taramon had taken those wounds, and no help was coming. You were brilliant."

Estan sat down beside her, and asked "Will you stay here?"

"No. I can't. I'm still looking for a bit of peace. I'll never find it in a world that worships the strength learned from war." Pali explained.

"You admire us, my people. But despise the way we become what we are." Estan said, more to himself.

Pali nodded, agreeing.

"Is that why you were exiled? From Tython? Because of what you had to do to become someone who could protect them?" Estan asked.

Tears welled in her eyes, and Pali turned her head away, unable to meet the searching eyes of this uncomfortably insightful soldier." Marius read, slowly.

"This is the lamest romance ever." Bug muttered, shaking his head.

"This isn't romance, Bug." Beriven said, softly.

"Is so." Tha'varr disagreed, shaking her head. "They are so going to hook up and travel together."

"They will, but it isn't romance. They've seen too much of the horror of the world for it to be simple romance. They're too scarred." Beriven explained.

"Let me finish, anyway." Marius said.

"Pali turned back to Estan, and said "You're right."

"But it wasn't because they hated me. At least, not the farmers, the merchants, the civilians who only rose up when our enemies started using them as human shields, or burning their homes for not being generous enough with their food and supplies. They loved what I did, because I did it for them.

The scholars were uncomfortable with me before the war, and even more so after. Even as they still believed that what I did for them was wrong, they knew they owed their lives to it." Pali explained.

Estan nodded. "So you left, because they loved you for the wrong reasons."

Pali shrugged, and said "That's the essence of it."

"Foolish." Estan said, blithely.

Pali rounded on him, her gaze settling into a glare that threatened bodily harm. Estan grinned in response, and explained. "It might be strange for the scholars, those who studied the Ashla and felt that using it to harm was wrong, but for the civvies, you're really overcomplicating it. As far as they're concerned, someone was trying to hurt their families, destroy their lives, and you stopped them. And asked nothing from them in return. It's pretty straight-forward."

He paused, and considered silently for a moment. "No, you already know that. Really, the only reason a hero would leave the place she rescued, is because someplace else needs her. You left because the galaxy needed you more than Tython. Simple as that."

Pali struggled, and failed, to find a response.

"Hey, if you don't believe me, we can go find the Caamasi." Estan offered.

Pali's confused look demanded an explanation. "Furry bird-like critters. Rumor has it they were the only people who ever talked the Rakatan empire from invading them."

Pali grinned, and asked "So you say we're going to find them?"

"Yeah. Figure you could use the help. Besides, you seem to find all the good battles wherever you go." Estan said, grinning.

"It won't all be glamour and glory. And you'll have to respect my ethics, or I'll toss you out an airlock."

"Not a problem." Estan agreed."

Marius sighed, and said "From here, it's all epilogue."

"Get on with it." Bug said.

"Pali and Estan left soon after, in a small Mandalorian frigate gifted to them by a grateful General Barak for their services during the war. Barely a planetary cycle passed before the Clans of Mandalore, at the behest of Alturion Taramon, left Mandalore to make their own way in the galaxy.

It is said that the Alturion called on them to leave, saying that there was little to be gained if the clans could not test themselves against the greater galaxy, and find conflicts to make their name from. Legends of the two warriors from Tython that none of their soldiers could stand against, sparked an interest in the worlds beyond that Mandalore could no longer satisfy.

As for Pali, her exile was said to have become simpler to bear. She would never find peace, but would die many years later on a nameless world, defending nameless innocents for no other reason than they deserved to be fought for. Estan was said to have died by her side, ever eager to find a fight he could not win."

There was silence as Marius closed the book, set it beside him. He picked up his tea, sipped it, and grimaced at how cold it had become.

"Woah." Mystery said, at last. Everyone burst into a fit of laughter as he spoke. Mystery, for his part, grinned sheepishly at them, until it subsided.

"That was amazing. Thanks, Merry." Tha'varr said.

"Seconded. But I'm going to bed. You kept us up way too late." Antia added.

The others stood up, eventually, and made their way to their sleeping bags, where they would curl up inside, smile contentedly, and close their eyes.

At the end, only Marius and Mystery still sat, awake, staring at the book between them.

"Do you mind if I read a little while? I wanted to start another one." Mystery asked.

Marius handed the book to him wordlessly, turned, and wandered off to his own sleeping bag.

Mystery sat in a small corner of the room, turning the light as dim as he could manage, and turned the book to a page titled "Andarist Vorpal and the Rakatan invasion.


	15. Chapter 11, Enter Iniquitus

The months passed swiftly, as the struggle for life faded, and their ambitions were given room to grow. Their school, a couple of warehouses given the security of a few guards, flourished as dozens of orphans took up the opportunity to find gainful work and earn a living. It was hardly the hundreds that the Lucky Orphans had feared it might become, but the Boss was unwilling to judge their successes against what still remained to be done, and treated each child who earned employment and learned enough to begin their own lives as a success.

In the years to come, the Lucky Orphans would grow, splinter, be renamed, and transform into a thousand different forms, and the agency and its founding members would be lost to the history of the galaxy. But each time an orphan went through one of those agencies, and came out with their lives enriched, it echoed the simple, heartfelt struggles that those small children waged against the a world much larger than themselves.

Such small acts can change a galaxy, eventually.

But only a few months after they began, news arrived, that would herald an intervention from the wider world that would change everything they knew.

"Quiet down, let me whet my throat first!" A man said, basking in the sudden excitement his attention had garnered. "It's a good story, don't make me rush it!"

The Boss smiled, and made a gesture from his corner when the bartender nodded. The bartender poured the traveller a drink, leaned forward and whispered 'compliments of the Boss, who would like you to get on with it.'

"Right, right." The traveller said, and raised his mug into the air. "To the Boss! Charitable to the weak, kind to the honest, and downright nasty to those who deserve it!" He said, with a cheer that was taken up by everyone else in the room.

The traveller drank deeply from his glass, while the others settled down into stools and chairs. It took only moments for the boisterous crowd to settle into near silence, one which took up an ominous note as the traveller started his tale.

"There's a new Lord on the Obsidian Throne." He said, quietly. His voice was hardly more than a harsh whisper, but everyone in the room heard it as if it were told only to them.

No one spoke, stunned into silence. For as long as anyone could remember, the Obsidian Throne was synonymous with only one name, one person, who sat on it.

"Someone killed Iniquitus?" Someone asked, as if afraid to voice the thought.

"As far as I know" the traveller replied. "almost nine months ago, the newly constructed fleet laid siege to the capital. It took four days before a strike force slipped into the palace and killed Iniquitus in a firefight. The city garrison surrendered right after it happened."

"Impossible." The Boss said, to himself. Almost a whisper, just loud enough for the two boys to hear.

"Why do you say that?" Marius asked the Boss, who put a finger to his lips and pointed to the traveller.

"Who did it?" Someone asked.

"Who was brave enough to kill Iniquitus?"

"Who else? His own apprentice!" The traveller answered.

"Amar? General Amar, the bloody bludgeon?" Someone asked.

"The very same. They say he stopped Iniquitus' lightning with a red sword that can cut through compounded armor plating." The traveller said.

Murmurs of incredulity permeated the air, and the ambiance took on an ominous note. The Boss turned to the boys, and said "Amar was Iniquitus' apprentice, and number two man. He's commanded armies, and committed atrocities, when he was hardly older than the two of you are."

The boys' eyes widened, and they turned back to hear what the storyteller had to say next.

"Right off the bat, and he hadn't sat down on that throne yet, he rescinded the Treaty of the Burning Republic, and ticked off Din'Alos enough that they revolted. All of them, every city, within a week of one another. They stormed the military compounds, hung the regional governors, and sent a nasty edict to the new Lord Amar declaring their independence.

Needless to say, he wasn't very happy about that, and sent the armada to Itamus. Let me tell you, they did a whole lot better than the Capital, because they managed to drop every single ship. Every one of them, burning on the ground almost overnight. There's a few vacancies in the admiralty right now.

They're mobilizing the army, and it looks like we're going to have another war of the Confederacy. For the first time in forty years, the Confederate flags are flying in the city-states again."

The incredulity wasn't limited to murmurs after this news, and a number of patrons already began cheering the successes of the Confederacy. The call seemed a popular one, as most of the bar was cheering before long.

"Verre." The Boss said, in an awe struck whisper. The boys barely heard him as the room began singing. Marius, years form now, would recognize it as 'Preserve the Confederacy to Preserve Us."

"Who was that?"

"A man who saved my live, forty years ago." The Boss replied, and didn't venture to explain himself any more. The boys knew better than to press the matter.

"Off world trade has stopped, and any foreign ship in the planet's airspace will be shot on sight. It's a bad time to go back there." The traveller finished, and many of the patrons applauded.

Much of the tavern turned back to their drinks and companions, and the quiet that had hung over the bar was suddenly drowned in voices. The Boss took the moment to turn back to the three boys, and said "I'm going to have a lot of business to deal with for the next little while. I'll talk to you in three days, early in the morning. We'll discuss finding a couple of teachers for your school then."

"Really?" Beriven asked. "You're seriously considering it?"

"Of course. The more the orphans of the city are working for me, the less you're stealing from me." He said, with a smile.

Mystery stood up, and said 'thanks' with a smile on his face. Even the boss seemed a little surprised, but shook the hand Mystery held out. He did the same with Marius and Beriven, and shoed them out the bar.

Marius turned back, as the others left, and walked back to the Boss. "Sir?"

"What is it?" The boss asked.

"As far as I can tell, the news at face value means Coruscant won't be in a position to intervene here for decades. This should be good news, but you're worried. Why is that?" Marius asked.

The boss smiled, and gestured for Marius to sit back down.

"You and Beriven, it's almost as if you're preternaturally perceptive. But the difference Marius, is that you care about things for their own sake. Beriven is just as brilliant, but he's more focused on the things he cares about. You bring more things into your concern. It's a great strength, one I remember from those parents of yours." The Boss said, as Beriven and Mystery slipped through the door and stepped outside.

Marius said nothing, only waited quietly while the Boss weighed how much he wished to speak. Eventually, he sighed, and said "My concern is that this will bring the attention of the Obsidian Throne to this moon."

"How so?" Marius asked. "It sounds like this new lord has a lot of problems at home."

"I don't think Iniquitus is dead, and frankly, I'm not sure if his apprentice knows if his former master is dead, either." The Boss admitted.

"Oh." Marius' eyes widened at the news. "So I guess you think Iniquitus will come here, if it turns out he's not dead?"

"It's the most likely place for him to go. It's a good place to hide, this moon, and if you want to find a place that no one on Coruscant has ever heard of, it's the place to start asking for hyperspace charts." The Boss mused. "And if Therran even suspects his master isn't dead, he'll send troops here. He's not subtle, Therran Amar, and he'll send a battalion to get answers, rather than agents."

Marius nodded hard.

"But that's my problem. I'll let you know if it looks like it's going to be yours." The Boss said, in a gruff tone. Marius smiled at the attempt at reassurance, but was bothered by seeing the Don of Vos Ma'ar so shaken by any news.

"Well sir, I'll be heading home." Marius said, waving casually as he walked away.

"Be careful." The Boss said, "And look after each other."

Marius stepped through the doors and into the street, to find Mystery and Beriven leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

Beriven, spotting him first, asked "Find out anything more?"

Marius nodded hard, and said "He thinks Iniquitus isn't dead. And he's pretty sure that if he's not, he'll come here."

"Iniquitus? The Lord of the Obsidian Throne?" Beriven asked, his face turning a little pale. "He can't be. Not here to the middle of nowhere."

"He's pretty sure of it." Marius replied.

Mystery didn't say anything, but looked a little puzzled at the thread of the conversation. Eventually, he turned and started walking towards their home, leaving Marius and Beriven to follow a little ways behind.

Beriven dropped his voice, and said "That dark cloud I've been seeing, on the edge of my sight. The one that's been there ever since that day I first saw it?"

"Yeah." Marius said. "You kept wondering what it was."

"I think it's him." Beriven admitted.

"Who? Iniquitus?"

"Yeah. I think it's a person. It's not a candle, a small light like most people are, but neither are you." Beriven pointed out. "And it's been getting bigger."

"Bigger like it's growing? Or getting closer?" Marius asked.

"I can't tell. Neither way is good, though." Beriven replied.

Marius nodded solemnly, and nervously, they made their way back home, to relay the night's discussion, and the hope they still had for getting real teachers in their school. It would be hard, but for a little while, they could again put news and portends away from their minds.

* * *

No one was particularly energetic that evening. Marius and Beriven were too nervous, Thema and Bug too tired, and the others too weary from their various labors to keep themselves awake. By the time the sun sank behind the planet they orbited, and the long darkness of the lunar eclipse began, nearly all of them were fast asleep.

Except perhaps for Beriven, who law awake in a cold sweat, staring at the deep and unsettling darkness that now surrounded the world. His hands shook at his sides, and his eyes were wide open, greedily taking in any meager light that could be found.

All of this, in an effort to avoid looking to the west, where a deeper darkness seemed to grow. For months, it had lingered on the edge of his sight, its nature a mystery. But for the past few nights, it had grown, and now the barest edges of that darkness were as close as some of the small lights at the edge of town.

Beriven rolled over, and quickly tapped Marius on the shoulder.

"I'm awake already." Marius whispered quickly. He sat up and slithered out of his sleeping bag, and even in the dim light cast from the street, Beriven could see his friend was already dressed.

"Can you see it too?" Beriven asked.

"No. But something's bothering me. I'm hoping it's just the darkness." Marius admitted.

"Then why are you dressed?" Beriven asked. He pulled himself out of his sleeping bag completely, and reached for his shoes.

"Because you are. I thought you were gonna slip out and go looking for whatever is out there." Marius admitted. "Think I'm right."

"Clever." Beriven grinned, despite himself. "The thing is, Merry, you know how I can see him, right?"

"Yeah."

"I think he can see me. Probably you, too."

"Do you think that's why he's here?"

Beriven didn't answer, but started to tie his shoes. Marius did the same, and the two of them slipped out of their warehouse, and started down the street.

As they walked, Marius noticed his friend's pace slowing, as if his feet hesitated in carrying him forward. He decided not to mention it, not wishing to voice the fears and acknowledge them. Better to try to hide his shaking hands.

They walked in silence for a few minutes, noticing the eerie quiet that seemed to fall over the streets. The wind had died, the clouds lingering above the city lights were unnaturally still, and no one, even those who had no other place to be, were not in the streets.

Beriven stopped, his eyes wide, and he backed away a step. "He's here, in the city."

Marius whirled on him. "He? Iniquitus? You're sure?"

Beriven nodded. "I can see him, or something of him." Beriven pointed to the west, where they had been heading to. "A figure in that black, like seeing someone in the dark when lightning flashes."

Marius sighed, and said "I wish I could see him."

Beriven shook his head. "I wish I couldn't. He terrifies me. But we have to face him, Merry. We might be why he's here."

"You think he's here for us?"

"It's possible. But I'm pretty sure if I can see him, he can see me. And if he sees like I do, I know he can see you." Beriven pointed out to Marius. "You stick out as powerfully as he does."

Marius squared his shoulders, and reached into his clothes. From them, he drew a small, familiar looking device that had been carried, a few months ago, by the leader of a group of boys that had tried to kill them.

"You kept it." Beriven said, simply. He eyed the blaster, and Marius, with a small grin.

"The Boss' goons didn't take it with them. I thought it made sense."

Beriven nodded, smiling. "I don't think I could face him without you."

Marius grinned in response. "Nor I. What's the plan?"

"Sneak up on him, and you shoot him in the head. Repeat as necessary."

"I've never killed anyone before, Berry." Marius said.

"I have. I will again, if I have to." Beriven responded, strongly.

Marius sighed. "So will I. But we don't know if we have to."

Before Beriven could respond, both boys caught sight of shifting shadows in the distance, and they both scrambled for cover, cowering behind a small pile of boxes on the side of the street. Holding their heads just high enough to see, they stared, breath held, as fleeting figures in the shadows sprinted through the dark.

Despite their stealth, it seemed to the boys that speed was more important for them.

"The Boss's goons?" Beriven asked.

"No one else moves like that." Marius affirmed. "Do you think the Boss knows who it is?"

Both boys looked at each other for a long moment, the started sprinting after the soldiers.

They rounded a corner, and spotting a ladder, elected to climb the rooftops and take the high roads.

The rooftops were a perilous route for even the sure-footed, in daylight. At night, wet with condensation, the narrow paths between rooftops were treacherous and uninviting. Beriven and Marius were slowed to a slow walk as they crawled along narrow beams set along rooftops, and had to double-back to find an alternate route.

So it was that they were still blocks away, when the first crack of thunder roared not from the skies, but from the streets ahead of them.

Men screamed, and blaster fire punched through the air in bright red flashes in the aftermath, clearly visible until another blast of thunder ripped through the night air.

Beriven shrieked, and covered his eyes. Marius, for his part, knelt on the cobblestones on the flat roof, and held his hands steady.

"Berry, I feel something, anger, so much of it, but it isn't mine." Marius panted. "Why do I feel that?"

Beriven shrugged, and said "It's lightning. I can see it. It's coming from Iniquitus."

"Lightning? Are you serious?" Marius asked. The impossibility of it made him brave, as if he could face it knowing it couldn't possibly be real. "It could be some kind of explosive, a grenade or a plasma charge."

"I didn't see it normally, Merry." Beriven said. "I know what I saw."

Marius swallowed, and nodded. "Okay."

They continued on, exchanging speed for stealth, as they clung to the shadows. Both boys tip-toed along the edge of a roof, until Beriven dropped to a crawl. Marius followed, until they lay behind a tall, cement lip in the roof almost as tall as they were. Beriven turned to Marius, and said "He's just below."

Marius nodded, and drew the blaster. Slowly, both of them rose up, and peered over the ledge.

There were six figures in the dimly lit street below. Two law sprawled on the ground, coughing weakly. Smoke rose, in lazy tendrils, from dozens of spots along their bodies. Weapons lay at their sides, as badly burnt as their owners.

Two more crouched in cover, weapons poised, both pointed at one of the last two figures almost directly below the boys.

Of the last two, one was now very familiar. Short, unremarkable looking, he stood with hands in his pockets, his body tense. His head was tilted forward a little, and the gaze he leveled at the last, unknown figure, was one that would likely have cowed anyone else in the city, even if they didn't know who he was.

The last, who loomed over the boss like an adult to a child, had his hands pointed to the two armed soldiers, fingers splayed like he was resting his hands on some instrument. Though all they could see was the back of his head, it was impossible to avoid noticing charcoal black bandages, wrapped fully around the head, with small tufts of hair protruding at odd angles from a few sides. Below that, the bandages continued down the neck, and disappeared beneath a black cloak.

"You're not welcome here." The Boss said, quietly. It was unlikely anyone heard besides Iniquitus, and the two boys just above them.

"Do you welcome every traveller like this?" The bandaged figure asked, his fingers flexing a little. The two soldiers flinched as he spoke. His speech was quiet, would be difficult to hear if the night was not so hushed. His voice was soothing, surprisingly so for someone with Iniquitus' reputation.

"Only you, Iniquitus." The Boss replied, still speaking softly.

The bandaged figure tilted his head slightly, as the Boss spoke. "Where did you come by your courage? Your minions are too professional, and you are far too calm, for what you just went through."

"I've seen it before. And I brought soldiers, not minions." The Boss responded.

"You've seen it before? Lightning? And you live?" Iniquitus asked, bemused. "Your accent. The Confederacy. There was only one city during that war I intervened in, personally. Itamius. You were one of Verre's makeshift militia." He laughed a little, a rumbling chuckle that sounded like the crackling of a fire. "For such a large Galaxy, it seems so small at times."

"If you've seen it before, soldier, you know that I will do to this place, if you interfere with my wishes. Worse still, since you know who I am, we need to come to an arrangement. I'd prefer to retain anonymity, and slaughtering the local magistrate doesn't serve my interests."

The Boss nodded, slowly. "I have no interest in bringing your apprentice and a brigade of troops here. You can't stay, you'll attract too much attention, but I can spare supplies on a regular basis." He paused, and asked "But what drew you here? If you were after a way to reclaim your throne, surely another developed world would have served better. Corellia, or Duro."

"There is a presence. Two of them, powerful disturbances. I need allies, or tools, if I'm to reclaim my throne, and an ally or an apprentice would mean more than a battle fleet to that end. A single adept in this power might tip the balances of a battle. A trained apprentice might steal me an empire, just as it was stolen." Iniquitus said.

"He's here for us!" Beriven exclaimed, whispering into Marius' ear. "Kill him!"

Marius didn't wait for another word, and setting the butt of the blaster pistol on the ledge, using the solid surface to help him aim. He set his eye behind the sights, and lined them up carefully.

Iniquitus' bandaged head was set between the gap in the back sight, and lined up perfectly with the nob in the front. Marius took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and began to pull the trigger.

Iniquitus didn't move, didn't gesture, didn't even interrupt his conversation with the Boss, as the blaster was snatched out of Marius' hands, and whirled in an arc towards the former Lord of Coruscant.

"No." The Boss whispered, as he saw the blaster clatter onto the cobblestones, and looked up to the roof to where it came from.

"These are my terms. For my restraint, since I haven't killed you when you offered ample provocation, I require a moderate assortment of supplies, delivered to a location I give you, at regular intervals while I reside on this moon. Foodstuffs, medical supplies, a small financial stipend. No great burden on your resources. In addition, I require your silence, and the two boys who just tried to kill me." Iniquitus demanded, his tone quiet, almost gentle, though the menace was impossible to ignore.

"If you fail to meet these demands, one of two things will happen. I will either return to slaughter you and yours, and drive your town to ruin, or if I choose to reclaim my throne first, I'll bombard the city from orbit. Am I clear?" Iniquitus asked.

The Boss, his hands still in his pockets, shook his head. "I cannot accept those terms."

"Less patient men, with power less than what I wield, would kill you where you stand for such insolence." Iniquitus added.

"I'm aware of that." The Boss replied. "But I'm a don. A mob boss who has outlawed slavery in the city I claim. I will not compel the children to accompany you."

"Even if it means the death of you and yours? And the ruin of everything you have built here?" Iniquitus asked, softly. The boys shuddered as he spoke.

The Boss nodded, and one hand drifted to the holstered blaster at his side.

"Verre left quite the impression on you. For most men, principles are small channels dug in the sand with a stick. Easy to draw again, easier still to step across." Iniquitus acknowledged. "However," and there was a smile in his voice. "They did just try to kill me. You cannot object if I compel them.

The Boss grit his teeth and looked up at the boys, still staring down as the former Lord of the Obsidian throne negotiated with the only power that still separated them from the sorcerer. His gaze was pained, the apology as clear on his face as if he had said it out loud.

"Will you still help the Orphans?" Marius asked.

The Boss smiled. "Of course. So long as they work to help themselves."

"They will." Beriven assured him.

"Then I have no objections. You are owed recompense." The Boss said, supplicating by throwing his hands in the air.

Iniquitus turned, and set his gaze upon the boys for the first time. The eyes glowed, a sinister, faint red glint that made those eyes easy to see, despite the darkness. "Come down."

The boys obeyed, and started to climb down, awkwardly, from the rooftop. Beriven dropped almost twice his body length to make it down, and Marius landed awkwardly, rolling on the cobblestones before standing and brushing himself off.

"Boys. You tried to kill me. An insult I won't take kindly. Your lives are mine, to do with as I wish." Iniquitus told them, and both boys were shaking with fear. "To answer for this, I am going to make use of you. You will serve me, as I teach you skills and powers to make you strong. I will then use that strength, to regain something I have lost. I demand this of you, in answer to the offense you gave me when you tried to kill me."

"I can make this demand because I'm stronger than you. Stronger than the ruler of your city, who I've made other demands of because his soldiers threatened me. You will comply, or not only you will die. I will tear down everything you have found to love.

The boys nodded, in understanding.

"If it helps, think of what your doing as protecting them, from me."

Marius spoke first. Gulping more than he needed to, and the hands at his sides still shuddering, he said "I accept."

"So do I." Beriven answered, only a moment later.

"Good." Iniquitus said. "Meet me at the eastern end of town, in one hour. The don will have people pack supplies for us. You will need nothing except what you're wearing. Use the time to make peace with who you need to. We are unlikely to return in a hurry."

The Boss turned to them, and said "I'll walk you back. We have things to talk about."

"Then I'll meet you all at the eastern end of town. One hour. You know the price of failure." Iniquitus warned.

It was in dread silence, that the boys and the Don of Vos Ma'ar set off back to their home, all of their lives changed.


	16. Chapter 12, Beneath the Eclipse

The night fell into a hushed, respectful silence, as three short figures marched steadily through its streets. Fog crept through the streets, and the trickle of the fountain, far away in the town square, carried clearly between steps.

Most things begin in trepidation.

In that mist shrouded, quiet cold beginning of the long night, where the lunar eclipse would keep their world shrouded in darkness for nearly a week, two boys found their apprenticeship to this fabled lord of distant Coruscant had taken its first steps.

"I hope you're not planning to double-cross him." The Boss said, into the silent night. Neither boy, walking a step ahead of him, spoke in response. There was no need.

"Every single person on this moon can tell you horror stories of the Lord of the Obsidian Throne. Most have lived under his rule, at one point or another. It's been said that he has never lied." The Boss reflected, as they walked.

Beriven turned back to him, the sudden curiosity burning in his eyes, seen only for a moment. "It frightens me as much as anything else about him. When you have such naked power that you have no reason to lie, to bluff about your power, to deceive someone for advantage."

"He will stay true to his word. Your friends are safe, so long as you arrive on time." He finished, trying to be reassuring.

Marius turned to him, as they walked, and asked "What's he gonna do with us?"

Beriven added "Is he gonna turn us into soldiers? Killers?"

The Boss sighed, as they walked. "I don't know. But boys,"

They stopped, and gathered close as he spoke. "He's giving you power. Granted, he has his own motives for it, but you are being offered knowledge, and strength, from someone who ruled the better part of an entire world for over six hundred years. You may never have a greater teacher."

He paused, taking a deep breath, and added "But I want you both to remember your time here. Remember that even with what you went through as children, that you still managed to find a place with laughter, with love, and friends unlooked for. You will still find such things in the future, as long as you want it."

"And I am sorry, that I could not give you a childhood here." The Boss admitted, hanging his head a little.

Both boys chocked back tears, as he spoke, and struggled with the urge to hug the Don of Vos Ma'ar.

"You came close." Beriven said, quickly.

"Yeah. It took a sorcerer to stop you." Marius added.

"More than that. You almost gave us back something I never thought I could hope to have. I don't remember much before being a slave, but I remember enough to miss it." Beriven explained. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. I failed." The Boss said, quietly.

The rest of the trip back passed in silence, asides from a brief crossing of paths with Sark Vilith, who took in the orders without objection, and left as quickly as he came. Hardly more than fifteen minutes passed, before they reached the warehouse, and the three of them stepped inside.

Too much light poured through the makeshift corridors the empty shipping crates created. Too many lights, more than were usually on during the day, and many of them pointed so that anyone entering would cast very long shadows.

Marius turned his head to Beriven, and said "At least we don't need to wake'em." Beriven nodded in agreement, a soft grin on his face. "Can't get anything past them. Not since we were attacked. Good for them."

They started inside, the Boss lingering by the doorway, shutting it as softly as possible. The boys were met, almost instantly, by Thema, who had placed herself on top of one of the crate stacks. She hopped down, and stared at Beriven, silently waiting for him to explain.

"You should have locked it." Beriven said, forcing himself to sound nonchalant. He failed.

"Berry? What is it?" She asked. "Why is he here?" pointing to the Boss in emphasis. The Boss, seeing her pointing, waved a little.

"Thema, could you go get everyone? We need to talk. It's serious." Marius asked. She nodded in response, heading up the stairs to the offices, where they usually slept.

Marius turned to Beriven. "How are we gonna tell them?" He asked.

"Let me start." The Boss offered. "People tend to take authority figures seriously on the outset."

The boys nodded, and turned back to see the stairway start to fill with the others. Anita entered first, the life in her eyes as bright as ever, but carrying a darker tone since the night they were attacked. The tired grimace she wore faded as she spotted the Boss.

"Berry? Merry? What is..." Bug asked from the top of the stairs, coming into view as Anita started down. Marius stared, and as vividly as he now saw his young friend standing at the top of the stairwell, his mind's vision flashed with images of a tall man, with Bug's features, dressed in the same faded brown cloak and loose fitting clothes the Boss now wore.

Mystery and Tha'varr followed Bug down the stairs, though not as quickly, as Bug threw himself down to catch up to Anita. As ever, Mystery seemed calm, almost serene despite the presence of the city's Don. Tha'varr, in contrast, was shaking, and the hand she used to grip the rails was almost white.

"Berry? Guys, what happened?" Thug asked. Unlike the others, Thug was dressed warmly, likely on rooftop duty. "Mystery woke us half an hour ago, said you were missing." Thema fell in behind him, and everyone gathered around to wait for the boys to explain.

The Boss coughed once, quietly, and the room fell silent. With every eye turned his way, he held them for almost a dozen heartbeats. "Your friends have been apprenticed, to a sorcerer." The Boss said. "None of us have a choice in this matter."

"What?" Thug asked. "What sorcerer?"

"We don't know who." The Boss said, in what would be the only lie of the night. "But he killed almost a dozen of my guards. Easily. Your friends tried the same. As a consequence, the sorcerer demands that your friends accompany him. Apprentice to him. Their refusal will result in all of your deaths, and likely, the destruction of my organization. Your friends engaged an enemy of mine, and I would be obliged to protect you. Understand though, that if I and mine were capable of killing him, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Merry, why didn't you let us help you?" Anita asked.

"If he had, and you presented a more serious threat, he might not have spared you." The Boss interjected.

"I know." Anita said. "But when you left, why didn't you take any of us with you? Why do it alone?"

Neither boy had an answer for her, and hung their heads.

"How did you know he was coming?" Mystery asked, softly.

Everyone's expressions changed, with that question. They all turned to Beriven and Marius, expectantly.

Beriven sighed, and said "I could see him. Still can."

Marius shook his head, and explained. "He can see them the way Pali could. Through that power thingy, the Ashla."

Beriven smiled sadly at Marius, but didn't offer a different explanation.

"So you're a sorcerer, too?" Bug asked.

"At least in potential." The Boss affirmed. "It seems obvious, given his interest in you."

"And you, Merry? Why does he want you, too?" Tha'varr asked. There was something in her voice, something Marius couldn't place.

"Comic relief?" Marius asked, with a shrug. There were a few appreciative grins, despite the moment.

"Marius is one, too." Beriven explained. "I see things, because of this power, I can see people and things far away. Most people look like candles, little lights. That sorcerer looks like a lightning storm against a sunset, I guess. Marius looks like mist on a river."

"It explains a lot." Thug said. "You guys were always special. Smart, and when you get excited, it's contagious."

"Don't do that, Thug." Thema insisted. "Don't talk like they're going to disappear."

"Thema. We have to go. If we don't, he'll kill all of us. And the Boss, when you force him to try and protect us." Marius insisted.

"We left," Beriven said, turning to Anita "Because we saw him coming. I've sensed him, I guess, for over a month. I knew he was coming for me, and Marius. I went because I was afraid he'd try to take me away from you. This place, this family, is the most important thing I've ever had. I still don't want to go, but if I don't, this pace will be gone."

Anita nodded, and said "Can we come with you?"

"No." The Boss said. "At best, he'll use you. Worse, might kill you as part of their training. I've heard something of how he trains his apprentices." The Boss said emphatically.

"Why would you know that?" Anita asked.

"Because the sorcerer is Iniquitus, isn't it?" Mystery asked.

The Boss hung his head a little, then said "You should say your goodbyes. I have some soldiers packing supplies, so you won't need to part with anything. But he set a time limit, and we've used up over half of it."

"Right." Beriven said. He turned back to them, and said "I'm so sorry."

The others crowded around, tears in their eyes, as they wished one another well and swore to see each other again. Tha'varr insisted they take some of the sweets she had stashed, saying that the Boss was likely to send nothing but military rations with them.

"Come back to us, okay? As soon as you can, when you do what he wants, or become more powerful than him. Come back." Bug pleaded.

"We will!" Beriven insisted. Marius, in turn begged them to "Stay together, keep going with everything we started. Don't you dare fall back to the streets!"

"We will!" Bug insisted, his eyes fierce. "We'll look after each other, we'll always be family. And we'll leave two open plates for whenever you come back."

Anita, her eyes red, stood up to Marius and kissed him, hard, for a kiss that seemed to stop his heart, slow time to a crawl, and blacked out every thought from his mind.

As she pulled away, though, Marius saw something in her eyes, a grief that seemed too empty, as if something in her had been torn away, leaving a darkness that, despite everything else happening, left Marius chilled and heartbroken.

"It's time." The Boss said. "Don't follow. I'll be back in an hour."

He opened the door then, and the boys, reluctantly, turning their heads back every couple of seconds, stepped through and out into the night.

As they walked away, they could see a single shape, silhouetted against the rooftop lights. Quickly, they could see a couple more, until every one of their friends, despite their tears, waved and cheered their lost friends into the night.

* * *

"You're not early." That smooth, deceptively gentle voice spoke from the shadows, as Marius and Beriven stepped into view. The Boss trailed a couple of steps behind, his hand idling beside his blaster.

"We're not late." The Boss replied, dangerously.

"True. But I do prefer fear inspired promptness. Your toeing the line suggests a compromise between terror and principle. Common among the most defiant of my servants." Iniquitus explained.

"And your most capable, I suspect." The Boss replied, quietly.

"I concede the point. But you may give these children the wrong impression, that I actively seek defiance in those I employ, or rule." Iniquitus looked hard at the Boss, and flexed his fingers. "A question, boys. In this instance, what would be the best way to ensure the Don's loyalty and silence?"

The Boys, terrified, shrank back a little and shook their heads.

"Too frightened to give an answer? If I told you your silence might get him killed? Will that loosen your tongues?"

"Killing him will loose you the resources, and wounding him makes it more likely for him to risk putting a thermal detonator in his next shipment." Beriven said, quickly.

"He's less likely to deal with you, if you don't stick to the letter, and the spirit of what's been agreed upon. We go with you, you leave this place and its people unmolested. We serve you, you don't come back and burn Vos Ma'ar to the ground." Marius added.

Iniquitus' expression couldn't be seen under the bandages, leaving it almost impossible to gauge his reaction.

"Well put. I am impressed." Iniquitus said. His gaze settled on the Boss, who now gripped the blaster pistol with one hand, and had the other at his side, looking only a moment away from drawing it.

"Turn back and look at him, children." Iniquitus said. "Men such as him are the rarest in the galaxy. Principled, ethical, and capable. He has forged justice and peace in a world that lacks law, or the economic incentive to acquire it. His adversaries are criminals and the worst sort of scum, and if they ruled, you two would be slaves or worse, beneath an indolent, self-indulgent heel. Rare is the person who would not do that to you, if they had power. Rarer still is the person who can acquire power, and still treat the powerless as if they deserved a dignified life.

My first lesson to you is this: Do not squander such people. If you do, you will have armies without teeth, servants without worth, and an empire without pillars to support itself. You were wise to attempt to save him, regardless of your emotional attachment."

The Boss looked stunned, and shifted his stance to one more relaxed, though his hand still stayed near the blaster.

"Verre's soldier, know this. The bargains we have struck tonight will be honored." Iniquitus said to the Boss, as he looked into the sky. "One more bargain, for your consideration. I have no love for the slavery of children, so I offer you this. If you repair my ship, I will go to one city, of your choice, and end the trade of slaves in it. Give me your answer with the next batch of supplies"

He turned back to Beriven and Marius. "Boys. You are both familiar enough with loss. I can sense the grief within you, for what I'm tearing you from. But I sense the resignation, the solid acceptance of those who have lost, and grown stronger for it."

"And I sense the fear. In both of you. But beneath that, there's a sense of urgency, an eagerness. Know that you will both become strong. Stronger under a year of my tutelage than a lifetime could have ever made you. I sense your hunger for that power."

Beriven swallowed, and said "You don't sense anything like it. I'd rather go back now, join my family, and find my own kind of strength, my own way.

Iniquitus looked down on him, the cold, dark fury behind his eyes seemed to suck the heat from the air, and darken the sky of the lunar eclipse.

"Then you may. Your friend, though, does not get that choice." Iniquitus said softly, the smooth voice carrying enough menace to put tears in Beriven's eyes.

"Berry, take it! It's the best deal we'll get! They only loose one of us this way." Marius said, quickly.

Beriven turned to Marius, and shook his head. "I ain't leavin ya to him. I'd rather the lucky orphans lived without me, then see you become the next Therran Amar."

Iniquitus looked at Marius, a long, thoughtful gaze that held Marius in a cold, sweaty fear. He turned, eventually, back to Beriven, and said "then when you address me, you will call me Master."

A pair of soldiers stepped up to them, slowly, and dropped off three packs, one of them larger than the other two. "Medical supplies, clothes, sleeping bags. Military rations, a data pad and a transceiver. Anything more you need, just make a list. I'll arrange the next shipment fifty-two days after the lunar eclipse ends."

Iniquitus nodded, satisfied, as Beriven and Marius picked up their own packs. "What are your names, boys?"

"Marius, Master." Marius said, quickly.

"Beriven, Master." Beriven said slowly, after a moment.

Their Master nodded again, and started into the night. Beriven starting after.

To Marius, as the followed, an understanding that had passed between himself and the former Lord of the Obsidian Throne. That the eagerness he had sensed, the hunger for power his new Master had sensed, had come from him. That if he had made Marius that offer, he too would have refused, but not for such a noble reason.


	17. Chapter 13, Away

Vos Ma'ar shone, in the distance, the fading haze of a setting sun, as only the smallest sliver of it still hung over the horizon. To Beriven, staring behind, it was the light setting from his life.

He shook his head, and tore his gaze back to the small glow-torch that Marius had strapped to the end of a long stick, their only source of light during the darkness of the lunar eclipse. Ahead of him, Iniquitus stayed a few steps ahead, the darkness his shadow cast somehow darker than the one cast by the gas giant they orbited.

Beriven ran ahead, a little, and caught up with his friend. "You haven't looked back, yet."

Marius turned, the tears in eyes glowing against the faint light above them. "I'm afraid to. If I do, I don't think I could take another step."

Beriven hung his head in shame. "I'm sorry. I thought it was something else."

Marius nodded. "The eagerness he said he sensed?"

Beriven nodded quickly, in affirmation. "It's there. If I can use the Ashla, or the Bogan, I want to know how. But I don't want to leave them, Berry. There's nothing to gain from getting power, if I have no-one to keep safe." Marius admitted, quietly.

"We'll see them again, Merry. But for now, we're keeping them safe by keeping him as far away as possible." Beriven responded, his voice as harsh as a whisper could allow.

Neither of them noticed, but the black-bandaged figure had stopped and turned, and both boys almost collided with him. They scampered to a stop, and backed away a step, fearfully.

"Do you feel your situation is somehow unjust?" He asked, quietly.

Neither boy responded, staring wide-eyed at him as his shadow seemed to grow longer behind them.

"Is there something about this situation, where the two of you attempted to murder me, that conflicts with your sense of justice, or ethics?" He asked again, a little louder this time, and the menace in his gentle, soothing voice sent the boys' hands shaking.

Iniquitus' eyes lingered on the glow-torch, as it swung in Marius' shaking hands. "Plant the stick in the ground, and take a seat. This should be far enough."

The boys sat down, and Iniquitus set himself, with his knees resting in the dirt, directly below the light.

"Our agreement, as payment for the injustice of attempting to kill me, is your assistance in regaining my throne. Never forget, before we ever met, before we ever spoke or truly knew of each other, you tried to kill me. A sentient being, that you never knew, you attempted to remove from existence."

"You had already killed. Soldiers." Beriven said, quickly.

"I had. But one man doesn't attack eight. Eight men attack one. Like you, they tried to kill me, and died. That is the inevitable consequence of doing your duty under such conditions. There is nothing unjust about such a situation."

"If those soldiers had families, they might feel as you do. That it's unfair, unjust. But how it is unjust to do your duty? Pay the price for it? Understand, they served in your Don's efforts to make a safe, free place in a world without laws. They did their duty for your Don. Their families have not been dealt with unjustly. What they feel is loss, which is normal, inevitable even, but not unjust.

It is the same for you, boys. You have lost, your friends are in a world that you will not share, while you repay a debt incurred by attempting to murder someone. You have lost, but you have not suffered injustice." Iniquitus finished, harshly.

"Further, I am offering you an education that knows few peers in this galaxy. An education that will teach you to wield a power the Rakatan people used to conquer much of the galaxy, that was the original tool to access hyperspace, that can be used to know, understand, and do, things that are well beyond the powers of entire civilizations." Iniquitus said. "After all, to help me, you must be useful."

"In short, if you have any reservations you have about your fate, abandon them. You brought it upon yourself, and uncountable trillions throughout the galaxy would willingly kill you both to take your place."

He paused, as both boys nodded, and whispered "yes, Master."

"Now, your first lesson. Close your eyes."

Both boys complied, shutting their eyes tightly.

"Think on your bodies, for a moment. Consider the parts that make the whole. The fingers on your hand, that transform a crude limb into something that can build and create. Consider the blood in your veins, purposeless without the lungs to take in air. The whole body, meaningless without the consciousness that no single part of you truly makes up. The brain might enable it, but it's meaningless without eyes to see, a body to interact."

"Now, think of Vos Ma'ar behind you. Imagine the people there, those you know, and the many more you didn't. Consider the people you saw, how all your eyes could see were there parts, the same parts that were purposeless, meaningless, without something intangible, that gave them purpose.

Consider that, and breathe in, slowly." Iniquitus commanded, and both boys gasped as they took in a deep breath.

"Consider what ties them together, the purpose they make as they interact. The feeling of tragedy, as an urchin steals a wallet. The pleasure as someone bites into a desert. Think of how many people are affected by something that anyone does. The desert is enjoyed by a young woman at a coffee shop, and the chef feels pride in having accomplished it. The young woman leaves a tip, far more generous than usual, and for the waiter, it brightens the day.

He then pockets the tip, not sharing it with his coworkers, and the currents of his choice, and all that was possible if he had been more generous. Feel them, the torn possibilities stripped away from the galaxy.

Feel it, the actions, choices, and what they influence. Feel that potential, that strange resonance with everything anyone does.

Now, open your eyes, and awaken, to a larger world." Iniquitus whispered.

Both boys opened their eyes, and stared at each other, their mouths opening without words, pointing and smiling in wonder.

"So you both felt it. That's good." Iniquitus said. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. It resonates strongly with you both, more so than with anyone I have ever tried to teach. I will enjoy seeing what you will be capable of."

"Master, we read a little about it. The Ashla and the Bogan. Which one was that?" Marius asked.

"You've read stories about Tython, then? About the wars those two philosophies caused? Both of you?" They both nodded as he asked. "At least you can both read."

He turned his head to regard Marius. "Tell me, did you feel some dichotomy? Two powers, two things, some mixing of two opposing forces?"

"No, Master."

"That's because there aren't two powers. The fools who taught the Ashla refused to understand that the very power that they wield, also wields them. They denied the possibility of that, refused to consider that the actions they took were manipulated, that they themselves were influenced by that power.

And as for those who believed in the Bogan, they were worse. The only smart thing the followers of the Ashla ever did was to stomp them out. The followers of the Bogan believed that surrendering to this power, letting it wield their passions was the key to freedom. The freedom they embraced was the death of their free-will, a surrender to the influence of that power. Fools."

"This power emanates from and reacts to every living thing in this galaxy. Though most cannot influence it, because they do not resonate with it very strongly. Those who do are uncommon, but can be found by the hundreds, or thousands, on any well populated world.

Those who do are gifted, even if they learn nothing of their own connection with this power. Their plans have a tendency to work, their words are more likely to be heard. Circumstances tend to work well for them. You both may have noticed it influence your own lives." Iniquitus explained.

"Not likely. We're orphans. That didn't really work out for us." Marius responded, scathingly.

"Well..." Beriven started. "How well we all did in Vos Ma'ar. The fact that we got to the only place on this moon that shoots slavers on sight. And met everyone, got ourselves jobs, money, and a good relationship with the Boss."

"None of that was easy. We had to work for all of that." Marius insisted.

"Yeah. But if hard work was all it took, the rich would be poor and the slaves mining the Anoid Asteroids would run the galaxy."

"And we lost our families, Berry. Circumstances didn't work out well for us."

"As I said." Iniquitus said, testily, and both boys were deathly silent as he spoke. "Circumstances have a tendency to work out well in your favour. That doesn't mean you will be spared life's hardships."

"But I didn't seek you both out because you resonate in the same manner that hundreds of others do, in this very moon. There are two others in that very city I plucked you from. You stood within feet of both of them only hours ago.

I wanted you, because even for those who resonate, you two are unusually strong. My sight is capable of seeing this force, and how it is influenced by every living thing."

"As is mine, Master. But I did not see those others you mentioned." Beriven mentioned.

"You have the sight? And so young. You are powerful." Iniquitus said, in a soft, gentle tone. His voice was measured, respectful, and Beriven's heart hitched in his chest.

"But your sight is probably blinded, in a measure, by your longtime proximity to your friend. You can't see the stars in daylight. You both are unusually powerful, enough that it caught my attention before I landed on this world. In my sight, your friend looks like a fog shrouded star, as bright as a clouded sunrise. You, in turn, look like a galaxy being swallowed by its own quasar, so much light and darkness. Together, you orbit like a binary pulsar, it's no wonder you can't see something that resonates so weakly in comparison."

Here, Iniquitus paused, then asked. "Beriven, when you saw me coming what did you see with your sight?"

Beriven said, slowly "You look like the lunar eclipse. Darker even, even when you must have landed, over a month ago, I could see you, like a shadow on darkness."

"Darkness. I have never asked anyone that before." Iniquitus reflected. "Is my nature that horrid?"

He shook his head, and stood up. "We should find a place to camp. The lunar eclipse should break soon, and we'll see the sun in a little over half a day. Somewhere higher up, in the forest. Camping in the open can attract attention, something I want to avoid for the next few years."


	18. Chapter 14, The Obsidian Throne

Frost already crept along the branches of the trees, and the breath was cold and harsh in the lungs. The small fire the boys now huddled near for warmth had already consumed all the wood they had gathered, and only a few embers were left to lend heat to this unwelcoming night.

Marius and Beriven huddled as close as they could to the fading heat, shifting occasionally to hold bitterly cold fingers as near as they could. It had been an hour since they had tried to sleep, and only their mutual fear of the cloaked and scarred man who shared the fire with them kept the boys silent.

"Neither of you are going to sleep, are you?" He asked, with that peculiar laugh of his. It was a laugh that seemed a heartbeat away from fury.

"We're cold." Beriven said, poking his head from under the shirt he used to keep his ears warm. "Even the streets of Vos Ma'ar were warmer than this."

"When have you ever had anything handed to you?" He said, giving the embers a small poke with a stick. "If you're cold, go do something about it."

"We didn't want to offend, sir." Marius said, sitting up. "It is your fire, after all."

"Ah, prudence. But suffering in silence is pointless, you grow weak and gain nothing from it. Tell me, boys, do you fear death?" The man asked, smiling.

"Yes, sir." Both boys said, suddenly very attentive.

"Ah, without voice I know. You both stink of it, and very suddenly. Fear, boys, is the womb of ambition, the very beginning of power." He explained, leaning back slightly.

"You're both very familiar with it. You have been afraid of death since you can ever remember. Every hour of your lives has been a mad rush away from hunger, cowering in corners away from those who would do you harm. Fear of older boys who might believe you have food. Fear of the men and women who think you have something of theirs. Fear of not eating, fear of getting sick, fear of getting cut or breaking a bone, fear that the only thing you can trust in, the beating of your own heart, might be taken away from you.

From that fear, you grow. You learn how to stave off hunger, to find food, to escape your enemies. The thing that you never had a chance to learn properly, which I will have to teach you, is anger." He explained, with a sudden hungry look in his eyes.

"Anger, sir?" Beriven asked. "We know what anger is."

"No you don't. You've felt it, certainly, but you don't know it. To know anger, boys, is to turn against the things you fear, turn against the things that threaten you with death, threaten the things you want, and fight them. You lash out at the things that keep you hungry, destroy those who might destroy you, crush what keeps you poor, cold, and afraid. Have you ever, boys, gone out and destroyed something because you hated being afraid of it?"

The boys didn't say anything, and for too many moments, the only sound in the world was the irregular crackling of the fire. "No boys," the man said eventually, "you haven't. The reason for that, is because you found each other."

"The power in me, which gives me the strength you both wisely fear, is in you both as well. I suspect you saw it in each other, and it's why you both became so close, so quickly. But it's because you met each other that you never had the chance to lash out at the things that threatened you. With your calibre, you had no need to.

You met, and between the two of you, so startlingly capable, made not only yourselves but dozens of other little children safe. You gave them safety, and gave them security, and let them stop being afraid. If you loose your fears, you loose the potential for anger." He finished, with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"But sir, wasn't it good that we did all that?" Marius asked.

"That you demonstrated power, and a capacity to accomplish everything you have, is extraordinary. For anyone else, any children less gifted than the two of you, it would be worth my respect. But for the two of you, it is mediocrity, and stunts your potential to grow. You stopped being afraid, and such complacency is death to capacity. To become powerful, you need to be angry about being afraid."

"Angry about being afraid?" Beriven asked. "Angry at being hungry all the time?"

"Angry at being afraid of stronger boys with knives?" Marius asked.

"Exactly. Angry enough to destroy what makes you afraid, and powerful enough to act on that anger. That, I will make sure comes in time." He explained.

"Sir, why are you interested in us?" Marius asked, after a moment.

"Because you resonate, as I do, with a certain power that most people have no connection to. That potential took me decades to understand, and over a century to wield. It isn't something I can teach to just anyone, but perhaps the two of you can learn."

"Definitely. We're strong, and we can learn." Beriven asserted.

"But sir, I didn't ask that." Marius said, cautiously.

"That's not completely true." Beriven pointed out. "He wants us because we have the capacity for the same kind of power he has."

"But you're not asking that. You're wondering why I would want to teach you at all. After all, I've already admitted that I despise weakness and give nothing to those who do not earn it." The cowled man said. "That's an answer I would want as well, I suppose."

"Can you think of an answer?" The cowled man asked.

Beriven spoke up, after a moment of thought. "Because you want some way to measure your own power. Power is deserving, and if you can raise up someone you can become afraid of, you can become more powerful by conquering them."

The cowled man laughed at that, a laugh that touched even his eyes, but in a way that gave no hint of joy. "The two of you will become magnificent."

"Did you teach anyone before us?" Marius asked.

"And why are you here?" Beriven asked.

"That, boys, is a tale that I won't give you for free. What are you offering?" The cowled man asked, crossing his legs and sitting up.

"Firewood?" Beriven asked.

"That will do." The man said. "I expect a very large fire."

Both boys scampered to their feet and eagerly took to the woods, heads bowed towards the ground and eyes wide. As they stepped into the darkness beyond the fire, they stuck close together and talked.

"Why do you think he's here?" Beriven asked.

"As opposed to say, Alderaan, or Corellia?" Marius answered.

"I heard stories, when I was hiding in one of the taverns, about the Lord of the Obsidian Throne. They say he ruled an entire planet."

"An entire planet? They must have been lying." Marius answered.

"I don't think so. Too many people said the same thing." Beriven said. "They said he sat on a throne on top of a huge pyramid made of black rock. That cities bigger than this moon paid him tribute, and that he was six hundred years old.

They also say that he was overthrown in a huge war."

"That can't be true. People don't live for six hundred years." Marius asserted.

"People can't see the future, or pick up speeders with a wave of their hand, either." Beriven noted.

"True." Marius admitted, pausing in thought. "How much wood do you have?"

"My arms are almost full." Beriven said.

"Mine too." Marius replied. "Hope it's enough."

As they trunded back, they found the soft glow of embers readily enough, but their master was nowhere to be found.

"Master?" Beriven asked the darkness, softly.

"Up above." Came a voice from the trees, and they cast their eyes above, at the faint light of the moon, to find a black shape standing casually on top of a smaller branch far above their heads.

"This tale of mine demands a demonstration, to help you understand what kind of power can rule a planet, and what kind of power it takes to steal it." The cowled man said, pointing his hand to the sky.

"Don't think this is a trick of the light." He said, and turned his head.

From his outstretched hand, came a deafening crack, and the light that suddenly flashed all around the boys stung the eyes, forcing them to look away. The light died as suddenly as they came, and the night sky was as still as it had been.

The stars in the sky were still as brilliant as they had been before, and there were no clouds in the sky. Though neither boy knew what had happened, they were both convinced that their new master had done it.

"Once more, I suppose. Don't look away this time." He said, and pointed his hand straight into the sky. Once again, that deafening crack thundered through the air, and once again, that brilliant light stung their night-sensitive eyes.

But neither boy looked away this time, and watched as a few bolts, and this time they could watch the leftover image of their movement as the light burned afterimages in their eyes.

For all their light, the bolts of lightning looked darker than the night sky they shone against. The sudden wind from the passing of those bolts felt sinister, terrifying, and despite themselves, both boys were shaking.

"It is, perhaps, the most terrible of all the ways I've found to use this power. I wasn't alone in my studies; I had a teacher, but this lightning is mine. It was a power that marked me as having surpassed my own master. It's also the power, though which I brought the thousand city-states of Coruscant under heel." He explained.

"I am Iniquitus, the dark lord of Coruscant. It was under my orders that this moon was made habitable, and under my power that I had planned on finding and destroying anyone who had either the courage or ambition to oppose my rule." Iniquitus said.

Despite the sudden fear, the menace that they felt would tear their insides into ribbons, the boys stood and stared back at this dark lord.

Iniquitus leapt down from the high branch, and fell straight down, missing every other branch on the tree. Despite the fall, more than fifteen times the height of a tall man, he landed as easily as someone might have from a small hop.

"My apprentice, too, invented a power. Something he felt he could use to destroy me, but was at least enough to drive me from my throne. Even now, I'm not sure how he created it." Iniquitus admitted, sitting down beside the fire.

"Something worse than lightning?" Marius asked. "It couldn't have been worse, or you wouldn't have escaped."

"No, it wasn't worse. But it was a power, and like any power, it's most useful when your enemy doesn't know you have it. The fool had the gall to send it to me before he attacked. Try to remember this, boys, that no matter how weak your enemy, only gloat to a corpse." Iniquitus said.

"What was it? Could he turn the air into fire?" Beriven asked.

"Air into fire?" Iniquitus mulled to himself, toying with the thought the way a conisseur swirls a fine wine in a cup. "No. It wasn't even a power he invented, but a tool."

As he spoke, he reached into his robes, and drew out a cylindrical rod, in the shape of a flashlight, but slightly thinner, more like a hydrospanner.

"It looks the the handle of a sword, in a way." Marius said aloud.

"Such perception." Iniquitus said, giving Marius a slight nod. "But you would be wrong. It's hardly a sword, though it cuts like every sword maker dreams a sword could. It was the final key to driving me from my throne." He said, and ignited the weapon.

Where the terrifying thunder of the Master's lightning was a roar, the sound of the red beam as it tore into life was a scream. It seemed to rip into the air, like someone had grabbed two ends of the sky and started to rip.

What was left, humming in the air like a thousand hornets, all beating their wings in unison, was a beam of brilliant red light longer than a tall man's arm.

"It is the purest, most concentrated form of energy ever built." Iniquitus said, waving the blade through the air. "It can cut through through steel walls as if they were jelly. Even the hardest, densest metals are vaporized on contact. Flesh won't even slow it down."

He looked hard at the two boys, and said "Even my lightning couldn't break that blade."

"So that's how he won your throne." Marius commented.

"He must have somehow neutralized your armies, cornered the troops loyal to you, and countered your powers. Lacking the strength to overpower you, he used the sight of your inability to kill him to break the morale of your supporters." Beriven explained.

"It was an incomplete plan." Marius added.

"He didn't think of a way to keep you from escaping." Beriven agreed.

"Oho, my two little generals! You will be magnificent someday." Iniquitus said, a feirce grin on his face. "But let me tell you the story, and you can judge how accurate your surmising is afterwards."

* * *

Four days had passed since the stars had been seen by anyone beneath the Obsidian Throne. Four days that the sky had been a flickering haze of red, as blaster cannons pounded the energy shields above the capital. Four days the red beams smashed into the dome above the city, fire raining on the surface of the water.

Four days that Iniquitus sat in silence, waiting.

Those four days had not been idle on the part of the city garrison. Martaim Verre, in long discussions with Aryan Maizer, had set up a series of defensive perimeters designed to defend against a large-scale ground assault. For those four days, without the benefit of the Armada's overwhelming artillery potential, the marines and paratroopers had found themselves poorly equipped for a large scale ground assault, and were repeatedly beaten back beyond the shield perimeter.

So far, the tactical withdrawals from the peripheries of the city had been necessitated by the power resources that could be afforded to recharging the shield batteries, rather than the enemy's ground assaults.

"Prep the missiles. Everything that can reach that armada, I want ready to fire in half an hour." Martiam shouted into his comm link, nearly shaking in excitement. He switched it off and studied the skyline once again, reassuring himself that the ships in the Armada were still in their positions.

"Are you really going to waste all of the medium range missile batteries on this strike?" One of his lieutenants, a man quite a bit older than military service would normally allow, asked hesitantly.

"Of course. We don't have the firepower to win, and we're still a day or two away from having reinforcements." Martiam replied.

"But sir, most of our heavy firepower-" the lieutenant began, but Martiam cut him off.

"Most of our heavy firepower is useless for fending off the marines, and we don't have a chance in hell if that shield dies. If we scare them into being cautious about their firepower, our shields will last longer." Martiam explained. "Now go prepare the palace guard for their next assault."

The lieutenant passed out the doors just in time to watch a messenger run breathlessly into the room.

"Sir, the palace has authorized every available ballistic battery." He said, between pants. "Specific orders are detailed in the paperwork."

Martiam smiled at the thought, and said "Thank you. Go get some water and a bit of rest before returning to your duties."

The messenger saluted crisply before leaving.

Asides from the unstable mountain of papers on the desk, there were only two devices that sat, largely untended in a corner. The first, the comm link, was used only to relay information when urgency was more important than secrecy. The second, a direct cable line to the inner palace, was used only by the Immortal Lord of Coruscant, and had been collecting dust for the entire siege.

For the first time, it flared to life, its ringing unbelievably loud against even the drone of blaster cannons smashing against the energy shield above.

Martiam had the receiver on his ear before the second ring. "Sire?" He asked.

"It's a good plan, General." Iniquitus said, his voice at once grave and menacing. "I have one alteration to demand, however."

"Go ahead, sire." Martiam said, carefully.

"Focus your fire on one of their ships. The closest one, ideally. I want you to actually take one of those ships out of the sky."

"But sir, if they throw up their energy shields in time, we'll just be wasting energy." Martiam replied, a noticeable edge to his voice. The staff officers in the room cringed visibly as he spoke. Very few people had ever showed anything other than eager deference to the Obsidian Throne.

"Which is why you had better do two things. First, space the missile batteries closer to your chosen target. Second, and this is even more important, wait ninety seconds after the shield goes down before you start firing."

"Sir? The damage the armada can do in ninety seconds-" Martiam began

"Is nothing compared to what would happen if they were allowed to fire with impunity. See that it's done. You will have the assistance of the palace artillery batteries, as well as the use of the backup shield to protect the power plant. I expect this to work, General." Iniquitus said, and the line went dead.

Martiam sat in silence for a few long moments, looking for all the world as if he had just been stabbed in the stomach.

It was almost four minutes, which passed in deafening silence, before Martiam moved again.

He turned to one of the staff secretaries, starling her from her work, and said "Get me the Commander of the Guards, and the head of the Garrison. Once they're on the line, tell every outpost commander to withdraw to the next perimiter."

The secretary nodded, and picked up the phone.

"Lieutenant Mears!" The General shouted.

"Yes, sir!" Came the crisp response from across the room. A young man, wearing a uniform that was a couple of sizes too large, stepped forward.

"I want you to go to the shield generator, and ask to speak to Aryan Maizer. Tell her I sent you. The orders you are going to relay are exactly as follows. I will only repeat myself once, and you are only to tell it to her, in person and alone."

Martiam paused for a long breath, and said "02:15 exactly, overload relay plant B in the garden district."

Lieutenant Mears raised his eyebrows, and asked "sir?"

"You are not to write this down. Commit it to memory, and select a trustworthy aide to inform me immediately if you are killed before you relay this message. Once again, and for the last time; 02:15 exactly, overload relay plant B in the garden district."

"Sir!" Lieutenant Mears shouted, snapping to attention and giving the General a sharp salute before turning to the door.

"Oh, and Mears?" General Martiam asked.

The Lieutenant turned around.

"Don't die. I really don't want to hand that uniform to someone else."

"Why an overload, sir?" The General's aide asked, as Lieutenant Mears stepped outside.

* * *

"General Verre sounds surprisingly clever for a garrison commander." Marius noted.

"Too much so." Beriven agreed. "Where did you find him?"

Iniquitus smiled to himself, the dangerous smile of a satisfied predator. "General Martiam Verre was a lieutenant serving Itamius, a city-state under the Din'Alos Confederacy. That particular confederacy was one of the last places on Coruscant to defy my throne. The confederacy no longer exists, though I had to offer the citizens there a peculiar bit of autonomy in their choice of personal freedoms. Freedom of press, for one thing, and an elected government. Extraordinarily irritating, and I fully intended to dismantle it the moment General Verre dies of old age."

"Many people regarded it as a sign of weakness in my rule, to offer Din'Alos this compromise. They felt it was a recognition, somehow, of the spirit of independence that they had cultivated during their time of resistance. It did, though I didn't consider it when I made that compromise, make them much easier to rule." Iniquitus explained.

He looked harshly at the two boys for a long moment. "You'll find that, although not touched by whatever power fills us, some people possess talents, merits, of such quality that even expensive compromises like the one I made for Din'Alos are worth their service. General Verre is such a man."

"Is?" Beriven asked, quizzically.

"Wait till the tale is over before you look to fill in holes." Iniquitus answered. "One of the first cities I attacked was difficult to conquer. Extremely difficult, considering I had already arranged the assassination of most of its senior military staff. When the city finally fell, fully two weeks longer than it should have, I found Martiam holed up in the southern quarter of the city, still shuttling civilians out of the city through a network of makeshift tunnels that he had dug during the siege."

Iniquitus raised his voice to stress his next few words. "His was the first city I had attacked, and the ninth to fall."

"I had to step inside personally to rout up the resistance. When I found him, a week without food, he was still holding a key corridor into the tunnel network, by himself."

The boys whistled in appreciation.

"I asked him if he was the commander who had annoyed me so, and he answered in the affirmative. My offer to him was simple, a chance to save the civilians of his confederacy, by granting them similar freedoms to what they already enjoyed, and the chance to change my army's battle tactics to avoid non-military casualties. My condition, was that he would have to join my side."

Iniquitus smiled. "To sweeten the deal, I told him that his men would have a third option; to leave the city weaponless, but unmolested, to make of their lives whatever they would. Freedom, for all of his charges, in exchange for a lifetime of service. For a man of his principles, it was a good offer.

He took it, of course. The Confederacy had abandoned his city, and it was common knowledge that I would win the war. When I took him into my service, I made him commander of my personal guard, and gave him full access to the official decisions of my war staff. He made himself extremely useful, and as long as I kept his capabilities a secret from my generals, I could keep his talents my own hidden asset. An investment that returned itself a thousand times over, when my apprentice betrayed me."

* * *

Aryan Maizer had fallen asleep at the computer console when Lieutenant Mears stepped inside and announced his presence.

"Is it almost time?" She asked, not really hearing who was speaking to her.

"The shield batteries will need to be changed at 02:19 exactly, ma'am." Lieutenant Mears answered. "We're preparing the laser and missile barrage for the pre-arranged battery change. The General has a specific order for you."

"What?" Aryan asked again, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Did you need me to repeat myself, ma'am?" Mears asked.

"No, it's fine. But what message could the General have that couldn't be relayed by cable?" Aryan asked, confused.

"I'm under specific orders to only repeat this message once, so you will only have two opportunities to hear it. Are you ready, ma'am?" Mears inquired.

"Yes, go ahead."

Mears swallowed, and said "02:15 exactly, overload relay plant B in the Garden District."

Aryan nodded, and turned back to her desk.

"Will that be all, Ma'am?"

"Of course. I don't need to hear it twice. You're dealing with the mind that invented the energy shield.." Aryan replied, newly absorbed in her work.

"Anything to relay to the General, Ma'am? Be advised that any response to this message should be sent back with me, rather than by even cable." Mears asked.

"Just the following: Understood, it will be done."

Mears saluted, and rushed outside to return to his shuttle.

"02:15, an overload. What is that fool thinking?" Aryan asked herself, as she mulled over the display panel.

In front of her was the power relay for the entire city. A network of veins and arteries extending from two hearts. The first, and by far the larger, was the main generator for the city, now on the peripheries of the city still controlled by troops loyal to the Obsidian Throne. The smaller, in the very heart of the palace, would likely be the last station in the city to fall.

From those two hearts, power was distributed through six major arteries, the power relay stations. A through F. Each gradually shrinking portion of the city was powered by one of those six relays, and overloading any one of them would effectively kill any defenses that required power to operate. Moreover, each power relay covered an area direct from the peripheries of the defenses directly to the palace.

'Not quite', Aryan thought to herself as she looked closer at the map.

"Something perplexes you." Came a voice from behind her, thick with something beyond emotion. "To trouble a mind like yours, it must be confusing."

"My lord?" Aryan stumbled to her feet, struggling between the need to bow, and the urge to throw herself to the floor.

Part of her wondered how the General could even consider the defiance he constantly showed. It taxed her sanity to stay standing in front of this Emperor.

"As I said before, the usual forms of obedience have been waived." He said, and stepped around her to gaze at the screen. "What has the General ordered you to do?"

"He said '02:15 exactly, overload relay station B in the Garden District."

"Relay station B?" Iniquitus asked.

By the glow of the monitor, Aryan could look closely at the face that was normally kept cowled beneath a dark hood, hidden further by the darkness surrounding the Obsidian Throne.

It was badly scarred, as if someone had once taken it apart entirely, and made only a halfhearted attempt to put it back together. Long, jagged white lines stretched from the forehead to the chin, and patches were lighter, or darker, depending on where you looked. The nose, and the mouth both, looked as if they were missing pieces.

The eyes, that stared impassively at the monitor, looked as if the dark red veins that ran through them glowed.

"Show me what sections of the city this relay station feeds." Iniquitus commanded softly.

Aryan's palms were slick with sweat as she reached for the keyboard, and she missed a few keys before she managed to display the distribution map for relay station B. When she succeeded, the map zoomed in slightly to center the screen at the relay station, and the area in question turned a light shade of blue.

"Interesting." Iniquitus said.

"It's the only relay station that doesn't link into the inner city. Actually, if I made some minor adjustments to the power distribution, I could probably power the defenses right up to the next withdrawal point without this relay." Aryan explained, a moment of concentration letting her forget her own fears.

"He rewards my faith in him yet again." Iniquitus mulled. "The only strategically unimportant relay station we have left."

"What?" Aryan asked.

"It isn't worth explaining to you. Just do exactly as his orders require."

"Should I notify maintenance crews about this planned overload? Even if it doesn't link to the inner city, it does feed a large number of the ballistic batteries. With a little time, it shouldn't impair any of it." She said, quickly scanning the power relays.

"And ruin the whole point of his plan? I think not. Do exactly as the General has ordered, and nothing more. Don't even order people away from the relay station." Iniquitus said.

"But sir! An overload could kill dozens of people, and the loss of that sector could cost hundreds more." Aryan protested. She took a breath to say more, but her gaze met the eyes of the lord of the Obsidian Throne.

At once, her breath caught in her throat, her stomach lurched, and her knees buckled. She slipped into her chair for support, and found her breath coming out in short, ragged gasps.

"Lives are either used or wasted in war. If they die to help us win, they are used, and should be glad of it. Do as the General asks, and nothing more. Only transfer people away from that sector if he orders you to do so."

* * *

"So, my little strategists, tell me. Why did the General want that relay station to overload?" Iniquitus asked, mulling over the fire, which had again faded to a quiet haze of light.

"Think about it, as you go gather some more firewood." He added, waving his hand at the forest around them. "The night still has some time left to it, as does my story. The fire, though, needs a little more life."

The two boys stood up and jaunted into the woods, not even hesitating after Iniquitus finished speaking.

"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" Marius asked Beriven, once they were well into the woods.

"Yeah. The General wanted a distraction. Something to focus the enemy's fire away from anywhere important, so that the 90 seconds with the shields down wouldn't be too bad on the populace." Beriven surmised, smiling. "He really is clever."

"Cleverer than you are, obviously." Marius shot with a grin. "He wanted more than a distraction. This was bait."

"Bait? That really could be it. But it's a little risky for bait, isn't it? If none of the ships get close enough, then you're wasting an entire power relay for nothing." Beriven countered.

"Hardly nothing. Even the faint chance that you could drop one of those ships would be reason enough. If it comes down, then the other ships become more cautious, and the shield batteries are guaranteed to last long enough for reinforcements to come. By the sounds of the things, the life of the shield generator was exactly how long the siege would last." Marius explained.

"Of course, but if the armada could somehow detect a power surge, they would have already knocked out the shield generator. If they can't see the power surge, it doesn't make much of a distraction." Beriven countered, finally burdening himself with a stick.

"Oh." Marius replied, sullenly. "That would be hard."

They boys picked up sticks in silence for a few more minutes, this sudden roadblock forcing the boys away from any answer, or any more words until they had filled their arms with wood.

"Any thoughts?" Iniquitus asked as they returned.

"We can't decide if it was a ruse or a distraction." Beriven explained, dumping his armload on the ground and sitting down beside it.

"Interesting. What is the difference?" Iniquitus asked.

"Well sir, a distraction would be an effort to draw enemy fire away from where you want it, to minimize the damage the barrage would cause. A ruse would be attempting to draw a ship closer, to improve the damage your counterattack would cause." Marius explained.

"Which of you thought of this?" Iniquitus asked, and before Marius could speak, Beriven pointed towards his friend.

"Ah, I see. Interesting." Iniquitus said to himself. "Why aren't you certain of this?"

"Beriven said that if the enemy could detect a power surge, they would have already taken out the shield emitter." Marius explained. "I believe that."

"And you would both be quite right. If they could have detected a power surge, it would have been a very short seige. You're missing one key component, something they can detect." Iniquitus said, and only a short pause separated his last word, and the two boys speaking up in unison.

"The comm link!" They both shouted, and cheered each other from across the fire.

"Exactly. It isn't necessarily the power surge itself he wanted, but the comm chatter that would come from that kind of emergency. As you both already deduced, a power surge at one of the relay stations would likely come from either the shield emitter or the power generator, and the destruction of either would make the rest of the siege last mere hours, rather than days. It would be too tempting a target for them to pass up, too tempting for them to use their usual caution, and monitor the ground for retaliatory strikes." Iniquitus explained. "Very impressive."

"Not so much, sir. We didn't figure out all of it." Marius admitted, but Iniquitus waved the comment away.

"You understood the opportunity in the decision, the potential where it could cause the most harm. You see potential in events, the possibility of the hurricane in the flapping bird's wings. Develop it." Iniquitus said sternly, and Marius only gulped in reply.

"As for you," Iniquitus pointed to Beriven, to strugged to hold still as he was spoken to. "You understood exactly where the plan was lacking, where it was weakest and most frail. Something about you can see that weakness, that point of stress where everything unravels from. That talent of yours will serve you well in the future."

The boys felt something in their hearts as he spoke, a sense of their own significance, measured for them by a man who had conquered an entire planet. Despite their fear, Iniquitus' words threatened to make them bold.

"What happened next?" Beriven asked.

"Did it work?" Marius added.

* * *

The lord of the Obsidian Throne stood on the topmost spire of his palace, on a lookout that allowed him to watch all nine of the hovering ships that orbited overhead. The sky, sunless, was illuminated by a near constant flickering of red, as blaster charges smashed into the energy shield.

He watched the ships pass around the city, and he reached out his hand towards one, watching his own hand block it from his sight, and closing his hand into a fist.

There was a part of him, irrationally, that wished he could crush those ships with such ease.

He put his hand down and looked at the ship that still launched the ceaseless barrage against his shields. His apprentice, ever the weak-willed coward, had not appeared on the front. No flashes of lightning or broken gates to terrify the city guards, not even an appearance to bolster the obviously failing morale of the para-commandos who were, by all accounts, being soundly beaten.

In the back of his mind, far away from his thoughts, he began hearing the clapping of soft shoes against the marble stairway.

It came in quick, rapid claps, punctuated by a heavy breathing that immediately brought to mind a gasping fish, as it lay on the ground and suffocated.

Iniquitus turned in time to watch a messenger push his way around the balcony door. It was with a little more than mild disgust as he watched this breathless fool pant and moan, struggling to give his burning lungs the air they needed.

"The natural consequence of being a weak, fat sycophant. I would throw you off this tower right now if it weren't so common." Iniquitus remarked, and smirked with some satisfaction and the messenger threw himself onto the floor, bowing with his arms splayed towards his master's feet, and breathlessly mumbling an apology.

"Get up and do your duty." Iniquitus said, with menace in his voice.

"Sire!" the messenger gasped, throwing himself up to a knee and leaning on it, panting. "There's an overload at one of the power relays!"

"Relay station B, perhaps?" Iniquius commented dryly.

"Yes, sire! How did you-" the messenger began, but a glance from the lord of Courascent cut him off.

"Do you have anything to report to me, that I don't already know?" Iniquitus asked.

"Sire, the civil engineering core is in a panic, they're not sure if they can fix it in time, and claim that it won't be safe there during the battery change." The messenger finished.

"Tell them to abandon any hope of fixing that relay station. Instead, have them assist Aryan Maizer with the shield battery, or with re-routing power through the other relay stations. Any word on the cause of this overload?"

"No, sire. The civil engineering core is at a loss, and Aryan Maizer just keeps saying "it's the wierdest order she's ever been given."

"I see." Iniquitus said. "Any word from the army?"

The messenger looked surprised at the query, but quickly said "General Verre wished me to relay only the following: Everything is in place."

"Excellent. Relay my orders to the engineers. You may leave." Iniquitus said, turning back to the balcony.

"Oh, and get some more exercise. If it weren't for the pressing matters at hand, I would have killed you." Iniquitus explained. The messenger held his head low, and stepped back into the hallway.

Iniquitus watched as the messenger shuffled back through the door, toying with the idea of simply killing him anyway. As often as he had stretched the definition of treason to include incompetence, it wouldn't serve to murder a man just because he was fat and weak. His weakness was useful, his incompetence a blessing, as it meant his only chance for success in life was obedience.

Obedience was something he was finding in short supply.

He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift. Without sight, through the power woven through the entire planet, he cast his gaze across mountains, to look far beyond the city or the battle, and see his world.

He watched, pleased, as he felt a gathering of small candles on the edges of his perception. He watched them for a moment, looking at them the way a man looks at city lights from a mountaintop. He watched them stand in columns, rows upon rows of fluttering hearts and small wills, wavering with the breezes of fear that continuously washed through their ranks.

Iniquitus smiled to himself. His generals had assembled.

Another set of footsteps pounded against the stairs, and stopped just behind the door. Instead of thrusting it aside, as his messengers were prone to doing, there was a tentative, polite knock against the door.

"Enter." Iniquiuts commanded.

A young man, hardly more than a boy with facial hair, stepped inside and gave an enthusiastic, if sloppy, salute. "Sire, I have General Verre's communications."

"Hand them to me." Inquitus said, holding out his hand.

"Forgive me sire," the young man began "but General Verre's orders were to deliver them verbally, and in person. He said certain orders were better never delivered than intercepted." The young man apologised, with a shiver.

"Your name, boy?" Iniquitus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Lieutenant Hensan Mears, sire." the young man replied.

"You're quite young to be a lieutenant. I know the general is having staffing problems from casualties, but he is the kind of person who, when he doesn't have someone that he knows can do the job, simply leaves it undone. Why, boy, does he trust you with such important work?" The lord of the obsidian throne asked, with menace in his voice.

For a long, terrible moment, Hensan Mears struggled for an answer. He knew, quite well, that a less than precise answer might get him killed. Moreover, lord Iniquitus was well known for having an irrational temper, and might do the deed before he could relay his messages.

"Sire, if you'll forgive my impertinence, it's because I am capable of the tasks he gives me." Lieutenant Mears said, standing at attention and catching his breath.

Iniquitus regarded him for a long moment, and said "I smell Verre's defiance in you." He chuckled as he spoke, flexing his right hand slowly. "Relay your message, boy. I'll decide what your impertinence merits afterward."

"Sire," he began "missile batteries are all in place, and arranged to fire at a target three hundred meters above relay station B. Measures have been put in place to draw a target to that position, and comm chatter has been kept as authentic as possible. I have been sent by his office to assist in arranging the palace ballistics to compliment the barrage."

As he paused for breath, Hensan took two small watches out from his pocket, and offered one of them to Iniquitus. "When the first timer reaches zero, the shields will drop. The delay between the dropped shields and the barrage will be ninety seconds, as requested. Priority target is to be chosen based on proximity to the optimal range for the missile barrage. The shields will be re-engaged five minutes after the barrage begins, the destruction of one of the ships, or immediately if the armada gets their shields up in time." Hensan finished, breathlessly.

"I see." Iniquitus said. "Have you confirmed that the armada is monitoring the comm chatter?"

"No, sire."

"Then I suggest you do it now. Look out there, and see how three of the armada's ships have moved over the garden district. Do you see those three domes on top, the large round bulges on each of those ships?" Iniquitus asked.

"Yes, sire." Hensan answered.

"Good." Iniquitus said, more to himself. "Did you know, boy, that asides from the apprentice busy waging rebellion, no one has ever been more defiant to me than General Verre?"

"I didn't know that, sire." Lieutenant Mears admitted.

"Do you know why he lives, still?"

Mears shook his head.

"It's because he's talented." Iniquitus said. "Now, more importantly, do you know why he serves me? Even now, when his capitulation would mean my utter defeat, do you know why he defends the capital so brilliantly?"

"Loyalty, sire?"

"Yes, loyalty. He is loyal to something, but not to me. Have you ever wondered why the Din'Alos cities were offered the treaty of the burning republic? Why, when having crushed their resistance, I offered them so much, when I could easily have burned the cities to the ground and had done with it?"

Iniquitus laughed. "It was the price I paid for General Verre. Even now, by serving me, he protects their rights and privileges. He, alone, earned them the dignity of their history, the privilege of their elected government, and the preservation of their peculiar little culture. Their grand word of defiance, 'republic', still exists because he bought it from me."

"Tell me, Lieutenant, are you from Din'Alos?

"Yes, sire." Mears answered, hesitantly.

"Then I offer you the same, if you can take the palace blaster batteries, and hit the shield generators on all three of those ships." Iniquitus finished.

* * *

"The same offer as General Verre?" Beriven asked.

"How did you know so much about this Lieutenant?" Marius asked.

"The quality of a general is best demonstrated by what he views as the most important tasks. The quality of a general's subordinates can be determined by who he gives those tasks. General Verre had always viewed effective lines of communications as the most important asset to an army. When he commanded the armies that conquered the Din'Alos states, particularly Garvery and Thamaska, he would spend days in advance drilling his subordinates on how to relay information. He would often ask for radios and sattelite feed before even missiles or soldiers. He was fond of saying that any obstacle could be solved by a better plan, except for a communication problem." Iniquitus said.

"So you understood how much Verre valued him, because this Mears was trusted to relay information to Aryan and you?" Beriven asked.

"And knowing that, you gave him a task to test him." Marius added.

"Indeed." Iniquits affirmed. "Now, a serious question, boys. What were Martiam's motives in presenting Mears to me?"

"A successor?" Marius asked. "It would make sense, because exchanging something for your service can't last past the end of that service. General Verre might have been looking out for the future of Din'Alos."

"Though it's much harder to take away those ideals if they're not taken right away. In light of the rebellion, repressing Din'Alos further might have stirred up more problems." Beriven countered.

"No, I think it had nothing to do with you, and more to do with Mears. If he is going to mould someone into an officer of substance, he needed to know how they handled themselves around you, master." Beriven explained.

"Would Verre really use such an important message just to test a subordinate?" Marius asked.

"True." Beriven acknowledged.

"Of course, it may just be as simple as not having anyone more reliable. Palace guards are often a ceremonial unit, and as competent as General Verre is, it's possible his subordinates aren't." Marius added.

"True. But why would someone from Din'Alos be stationed in the palace guard?" Beriven pointed out.

Both boys turned back to Iniquitus, and Beriven asked "Master, what is the answer?"

Iniquitus laughed. "I honestly don't know. You see, I never really had a chance to ask Martiam about it. My apprentice, you see, had his own plans.

* * *

"General!" the comm link suddenly shouted, startling an otherwise silent room.

Martiam Verre pressed a button on his desk and spoke into the air. "Yes?"

"There's been an overload! One of the power relay stations, we believe it's in the garden district, just surged at 137% of its output capacity. There's been an explosion." The officer on the other end shouted. "Fire crews are already attacking the blaze, and the civil core of engineers is trying to re-route power through other relay stations."

"Good work. All troops not attached to defensive ballistics should help the non-combatants into other sectors of the city. Missile and blaster batteries should standby for orders."

"Understood, sir." came the response from the comm link, before Martiam turned it off.

General Verre turned to look across his desk, at a small clock with a timer steadily working its way to zero.

"Longest eight minutes of my life, General." One of the officers commented, pointing to the same clock. It had just counted down past the eight minute mark. General Verre turned, to regard a woman who looked a far cry from young.

"Captain Irial, I trust all is well." Martiam said.

"It is, Captain. Every piece of artillery, and every missile launcher on the outer perimeter has been moved to where you want them. It was all done extremely quietly, and the rail crews didn't make much of a fuss."

"Good. Hopefully, this goes off without a hitch." Martiam said fervently.

"Won't that be a first." She said blithely.

"Truth be told, Captain, nothing ever happens in war without a hitch. The best you can hope for is that the hitch doesn't bother your plans too much." Martiam admitted. "Has Lieutenant Mears arrived at the Palace?"

"Yes, sir." Captain Irial replied.

"Good. Monitor the comm link, and re-deploy troops as needed. Notify me immediately if something seems amiss." Martiam commanded.

Captain Irial saluted sharply, and turned away, heading back to her desk.

The general sighed, loudly, when he looked at the timer. It had just moved past six minutes.

He wrung he hands together as he watched the timer crawl itself towards zero, as each second seemed to grow just a little longer than the last.

Martiam recalled something Iniquitus had told him, some years ago. On the night before a battle, as he sat and poured over his plans, the lord of the Obsidian Throne had stood beside him and pointed into the city on the horizon.

"General Verre, are you ready for tomorrow's battle?" He had asked.

"Yes, sire." Martiam remembered himself replying, surprised at his own confidence.

"Then stop waiting. Either attack them now or go to sleep." He had replied, and walked away.

He smiled to himself. It was as friendly as the lord of the Obsidian Throne had ever been, and it's simplicity belied the clarity of thought that fostered such an opinion.

It was to do something useful.

Martiam put his feet up against the top of the desk, and let his eyes close. He would have only minutes before the launch began, but a short nap for a soldier could make a world of difference.

He hardly remembered closing his eyes before one of his aides dashed into his office, shouting "the shields just dropped, the shields just dropped!"

"Good." Martiam said to himself, and he walked to the window.

As the shields dropped, the Amrada noticed that their ballistic batteries were suddenly connecting with the ground. The endless pounding against the energy shield, like rain against water, had stopped. Suddenly it was the rending of concrete and metal that ripped through the air.

"Ninety seconds." Martiam muttered to himself. "Come on, come on."

The pounding grew, as more ships moved closer to the garden district, laser batteries ripping apart the small buildings and grounds. The sudden pounding had taken on an overeager tone, as even four ships hovered less than a hundred feet from the ground, intent on finding and destroying the only real obstacle to their success; the energy shield that guarded the capital.

The sub-lieutanant in charge of monitoring the position of the armada reported in suddenly. "Five different ships are within optimal target range. Ballistic commanders are reporting in, asking which ships they should select."

Martiam whirled around and almost ran to the desk. "Tell them to choose the ship closest to the capital, and as supplementary targets, the two ships closest to the new primary target. Remind them to spare no missile."

"Yes, sir." The officer replied, picking up the hard line and dialing.

Time crawled along, as it dragged fate into the present. Some of the staff officers in the other room had broken into a nervous sweat, and the rest were too anxious to notice. Even Martiam, who had earned his rank from hundreds of battles in almost a dozen different wars, fidgeted with the keys in his pocket.

The opening moment might have gone unmarked completely, were it not for the small timer on Martiam's desk. Not the sudden howls of missiles, or the screams of blaster batteries as they launched particle beams at the armada, could be heard over the incessant din of artillery fire from the ships above. The only thing that marked that moment, was the quiet chirping of an alarm clock.

Martiam leapt to the balcony, pushing aside officers as he forced his already stressed limbs across the floor.

He arrived just in time to watch a wave of bright yellow bulbs shoot out from the city, all of them in a straight arch, drawing the eye up above them, towards the spot where they would all converge.

Martiam watched without breathing, his every hope hinging on the response time of the officers aboard the ships. If they had been drilled, thoroughly, they wouldn't be able to get the shields up until slightly after the first wave of missiles struck. Hopefully, the damage would be severe enough to drop the ship.

As they sped upwards, there was a brief, startling moment when the missiles dissapeared from view, vanished under the shadow of the ship. For that moment, barely longer than a drawn breath, Martiam's heart did not beat.

Then the explosions began.

The belly of the ship suddenly burst into light, as explosions ripped open the hull. Sudden fire burst windows, gun turrents were blown apart, and the entire bottom side of the ship was littered with smoldering holes.

Martiam squinted his eyes, scanning along the superficial damage for the important sections of the ship, and how damaged they were.

At the stern, half of the main thrusters were dark, obviously damaged and their functions terminated to prevent further damage. Martiam scowled, respecting whatever professionalism had allowed such a necessary order to be carried out so quickly. His gazed wandered a little, searching for the stabilizing thrusters that held the ship in place.

In between blinks of the eye, the ship started to fall.

Martiam cheered, not caring who might have heard, as the ship's bow fell. Like syrup, it fell so slowly that a less professional eye might wonder if it moved at all. For nearly a minute, it slowly tipped, angling just slightly further towards the ground, until it stooped at an ominous tilt, and stopped.

At that moment, the rest of the stabilizing thrusters cut out, and the ship fell.

A small child carrying a priceless artifact, who had suddenly let it go, would not have startled Martiam as much as the ship's sudden, terrifying descent did. It made no noise as it fell, but the sudden movement was as jarring as if a cloud had suddenly been ripped from the horizon, and thrown to the ground.

Martiam ducked for cover as the ship crashed onto the city. Towers and fortifications crumbed beneath it, and the sudden shock of a half a cubic kilometer of metal hitting the ground rocked the city, with a howl that could be heard across the horizon.

The city trembled, throwing most of the residents from their feet. Nearby windows smashed, and taller towers swayed.

The moment the world seemed to stop again, Martiam threw himself to his feet, surprised by how eager he was to see, for certain, that the ship had fallen.

The city line was now blotched, with much of the outskirts now covered by a steel mountain that dwarfed any tower still standing nearby. Smoke rose from it in fickle streams, and the occasional flicker of yellow marked the still burning sections of the wreckage.

The comm link, and every available communication line was suddenly drowned in cheers, as defense crews across the city threw hats and fired rounds into the air, jubilant in their triumph.

Martiam, however, was busy staring at the palace, noticing for the first time that the batteries had not engaged along with the rest of the defenses. The palace's guns, though primed and aimed, had not released a single salvo.

His eyes widened, and he held his breath, as he suddenly understood.

Bright red charges lanced across the sky in a sudden fury, flinging energy across the sky with sudden, terrifying brilliance. The scream of blaster salvos could be heard across the city, in stark contrast to the sudden silence that had come in the aftermath of the first ship's crash.

The salvos flung themselves into the now charged shields of the two ships still floating just above the garden district. Brilliant blue ripples blotted out hulls that the shields protected, and new ripples seemed to flow straight around the entire ship.

"The emperor is just wasting ballistic fire." One of the aides said from behind Martiam. "Why didn't he help when we needed it?"

"It's brilliant." Martiam replied, with a fierce grin on his face. "Can't you see what he's dong?"

"Only wasting power, sir." The aide said.

"Far from it. You know that we can't generate a shield that protects the point of origin, right?" Martiam asked.

"Yes. It's the reason we keep the emitter's location a secret." The aide replied.

"Well, what do you think they're shooting at?" Martiam asked pointedly, as an explosion suddenly pounded against their ears.

High above them, at the top of the ship, a large dome shaped object exploded.

Martiam raced back into the command center, and snatched the comm link from his desk. "Shield crews on standby, you are not to re-engage the shield generator except on my order. All ballistic batteries, open fire on the ship above the north end of the garden district. Visually confirm that its shields are down, and let them have it!"

No one responded to that order, not verbally at least. But laser fire erupted from across the city, pounding against the suddenly defenseless ship. The palace batteries swung seamlessly from the defenseless ship to the last ship with its shield batteries exposed, and started firing.

Both ships started turning, flaring their engines and angling their noses towards the sky. The rest of the armada was already in motions to put their ships further away from the reach of the palace batteries, and still had their shields up. Only the ship with the damaged shields was returning fire, but much of their fire was wasted burning holes into the great stretches of rubble that dotted the city.

The troops on the ground, having watched the city shields hold back a storm of energy blasts for nearly four straight days, now smelled blood. Energy blasts ripped into the engines of the retreating vessel, and fires had broken out across many of the decks.

The command office began to cheer as the second ship started to slow, and then, as if something had just let it go, fell from the sky and crashed into the outskirts of the city.

Almost at the same time, the palace batteries knocked out the shield generator on the third ship.

Someone else in the command office shouted into the comm link "The palace just knocked out the shields on the third ship. Give'em hell, lads!"

Martiam watched the sudden rout with trepidation, as decades of experience in campaigns had made him suspicious of good fortune. Even as laser fire crashed into the engines of the fleeing vessel, he watched above them to the seven ships who still did not engage their weapons to cover their retreat.

Dozens of questions poured through Martiam's mind. Part of him hoped that it was fear that prevented them from lowering their shields and punishing the ground with a barrage of artillery. The more suspicious part of him, the part that had made him a General, was waiting for the reason they weren't firing to reveal itself.

It was a hazy glint against the light, nearly masked completely by the streaks of red that still tore across the sky. Hard to make out, and masked against the rising smoke of the wreckage of two ships, Martiam saw four small shapes push their way through the haze of light.

He didn't look again, didn't doubt his eyes or even attempt to disbelieve what he saw. He ran for his desk, and the cable line that ran directly to the Obsidian throne.

He turned it on without preamble, and asked "Sire?" loudly.

"What is it, General?" Came the reply, almost immediately.

"Four troop transports have slipped through the defense perimeter. I haven't verified their destination, but I suspect they're heading for the palace."

"How did they get past your defenses?" Iniquitus asked, with a heavy note of displeasure in his voice.

Even used to it as he was, Martiam still shuddered before he replied. "They used the wreckage of the two ships we dropped to slip through the radar without making a blip. I rather doubt any of the troops were prepared enough to shoot them down anyway, given the circumstances."

"I see. Clever, if opportunistic. Neither of us are used to sacrificing so much for such a small gain, so we didn't expect it. Tell me, General, how did you notice then?" Iniquitus asked, the irritation replaced by a note of concern in his voice. Martiam wondered, idly, if he heard fear.

"Soldier's suspicion, Sire." Martiam admitted. "Trust no fortune, and suspect all good turns."

"It served you well." Iniquitus commented. "Get a squad assembled immediately. Soldiers prepared to fight in close corridors against their marines." Iniquitus commanded.

"I'll instruct the Palace guards to concentrate their deployment near the throne. Honestly, sire, it would be prudent to evacuate the palace." Martiam suggested.

"You try my patience." Iniquitus said, disconnecting the line.

* * *

"Who was your apprentice?" Marius asked. "Loosing three ships is a heavy price just to drop a bunch of marines in the palace. A couple of missiles will take out the escape route, and no drop ship is large enough to outnumber your security forces."

"As things look, it's just stupid. But we're obviously missing something." Beriven admitted.

"Yeah." Marius agreed. "Was your apprentice in the assault force?"

"Oh!" Beriven exclaimed, pointing at Marius. "That's it! He has to have been, he didn't want the Master, he wanted to use the throne."

"More precisely, he wanted to use the communication links that only the throne has access to. If he convinced the generals that he had taken the capital and sent me into flight, who do you think they would side with?" Iniquitus asked.

"That would be the end of the rebellion, wouldn't it?" Beriven asked.

"Then this is the plan that worked, isn't it?" Marius asked.

"As pleased as I am by your minds, you children need to learn some restraint. Most questions will answer themselves quickly enough, unless you're a complete idiot. You asked about my apprentice, shall I tell you about him?"

"Yes!" Both boys shouted, sitting up a little straighter.

"Much like you boys, I found him an orphan in the slums of a city. He was remarkably well fed for a rat on the streets, and the other children feared him. Like you, I could sense the power in him from well outside the city. He isn't, perhaps, as naturally resonant in this power as the two of you are, but he already understood hatred. He had already killed, and was already aware, if just slightly, of the existence of this power and his own connection to it.

He understood enough to know that I was coming. Would you believe the little bastard had the audacity to lie in wait and try to ambush me?"

"Why did he do that?"

"Because he hated being afraid. He had surpassed you both that way, and he was just a bit younger than you are now. He understood how much stronger that anger could make him, and how much that strength could achieve." He said. "It's something neither of you understand, yet."

"Like you both, when I found him, and proved that I was far stronger, I took him in as my apprentice. I taught him power, and how to use it to destroy his enemies. I used him, and drove the will of my throne down upon the lives of every person on that planet.

When there was no one left to conquer, I began building ships. The first foray was this moon, a terraforming project from which I could build a habitable outpost. I built ships and began to recruit explorers, to begin charting these new hyperspace routes.

It was my apprentice, who kept insisting on building an armada, with which to conquer the stars. You see, boys, life throughout the galaxy will be ruled by those who, like us, are touched by this power. How often have I demonstrated that many were ruled over by a few, or just one? How often were these powers overthrown, except by even greater powers, even stronger men?" Iniquitus asked.

Both boys were silent.

"Only power overcomes power, and only to replace it." Iniquitus finished, in a dark, hungry tone.

"Master?" Marius asked. "Was your apprentice stronger than you?"

"Judge for yourselves." Iniquitus said.

* * *

Iniquitus sat on the black throne, his head leaning against the cold obsidian, his mouth twisted in a predatory snarl. His sight, though shut behind his eyelids, watched the fluttering hearts of his enemies as they descended from their ships, and marched through the halls.

He had his left hand over a small communicator, and in his right, the small cylinder of glittering steel. His thumb flickered over the ignition switch periodically, and his entire body seemed tense, nervous.

For the first time since he had sat on this throne, the Emperor of Courascant felt fear.

"There's a squad at the conservatory, on the fifty-first floor. Fourteen men strong." The dark lord said, turning his head towards his left hand. "They're heading towards the elevators. Prepare for them in the main halls, use the blast doors to seal off their escape."

Iniquitus flicked off the switch and watched, with disgust. Pompous sycophants and men too weak for proper army work, his guards were systematically slaughtered by the well co-ordinated tactics of the Armada's marines. Finally in their element, and suddenly freed from the deadly tactics of General Verre, they were proving more than a match for anything his subordinates could throw at them.

Anger boiled through his veins, quivering through his body like poison. Lightning flickered along his fingertips as the dark lord stood up, and stepped down from his throne.

"Sire! You don't need to dirty your hands with this lot. We will handle it!" One of the guards at the door shouted, giving a sharp salute.

Iniquitus looked at him for a moment. "The last time I was forced to go into battle was at Itamus, when the world was still fractured. In it, General Verre had transformed a leaderless mob of soft, weak men into a force that resisted occupation for longer than any other city in the confederacy. Why is it then, in a palace full of my servants, that I have to go out now, to kill sixty men?"

"Sire-" the officer began, but a wave of Iniquitus' hand cut him short.

Iniquitus paused after he cut the man off, considering something for a long, heavy moment. The pause caused both men at the door to break into sweat.

Iniquitus pointed his hand, and brilliant bolts of energy shot from his fingertips, sweeping the guard that had spoken from his feet, and sending him crashing into the corner of the room.

The Lord of the Obsidian throne turned to the other man, now cowering in fear. "Boy, when I step outside, lock up this room. Let no one through, no matter how long you spend inside. It will mean death if you open it willingly for anyone else."

Iniquitus stepped into the hall, his sight still keenly fixed on the racing hearts of the intruders. A few of them met the fragile heartbeats of his own guards, and one or two would burn out suddenly, as if someone had snuffed out a candle.

His gaze kept watch over a few of those fragile lives, the ones closest to what looked to be a swirling fog, tinted red, that clouded those closest to it.

A passing patrol stopped behind Iniquitus, standing at attention in two neat rows behind him. Its commander, far from young and very far from experienced, quivered a little as he saluted.

"S-sire! We're ready to assist you." He said.

"Follow me, then. We're going to meet my wayward apprentice."

Iniquitus closed his eyes as he felt the fear wash over the soldiers behind him, the urge to kill suddenly boiling up in his stomach. It was harder to tell who his greater enemy was, if it was the skill of his enemies or the ineptitude of his own guards.

"My apprentice has troops coming through the audience hall just through those doors." Iniquitus pointed to the doors at the end of the hall. "His troops will be there in less than a minute. Set up some barricades, and aim for the door."

The soldiers nodded, and streamed past Iniquitus into the other room. As the last guard stepped through, Iniquitus followed.

Soldiers were dragging desks and furniture into a semi-circle around the other entrance, while others were checking their weapons behind pillars. The commander had taken a position slightly higher up, entrenching himself behind a damaged monument.

Iniquitus stepped into the very centre of the room, with his hands resting at his sides, occasionally resting his fingers on the cold metal of his apprentice's energy blade.

His troops, despite the well stocked armory that the place kept, were armed only with standard issue blaster rifles, many of which had yet to be discharged. More than a few of these boys, Iniquitus thought to himself, were unlikely to have a working weapon.

The guards, after nearly half a minute, gave up fiddling with their unfamiliar weapons, and waited.

The guards waited. Only Iniquitus watched.

He watched as the flickering, pulsating lights grew closer, and clustered around the far side of the door.

The swirling red haze reached the doors, and Iniquitus smiled. "They're here."

The words barely finished before the door burst into splinters, exploding into the hall. Pieces of wood and marble shards scattered across the floor, and some of the closer guards stumbled backwards.

Iniquitus paused only a heartbeat, barely long enough for the doors to finish exploding, before he raised his hands and pointed them at the now open doorway.

He breathed in, sharply, and hissed as his hands erupted in light. Great arcs of energy shot through the air, into the dusty haze of the doorway, blowing marble shards back into the hall.

Iniquitus smiled as pained screams echoed in the hall, and those flickering lights went out. Other, panicked shouts echoed in the darkness, and the guards around the dark lord cheered.

Iniquitus narrowed his eyes and cast another brilliant bolt into the darkness, rewarded by more screams of anguish. Some of those flickering lights turned and fled, a few more went out, and the red haze behind them finally stepped forward.

Even in the darkness, Iniquitus could see the cloaked man, tall and terrible, that stood at the centre of that red haze. The pungent feeling of his hatred was powerful, even from this distance.

The soldiers shivered, and said "what is that?"

Iniquitus smiled. "My apprentice."

the cloaked man stepped forward a little, still deep in the dark hallway. A voice, hoarse and deep, said "No longer, Iniquitus. Only Therran Amar, lord of the Obsidian throne."

"You're forgetting something, my wayward apprentice. Save the satisfaction of gloating for the corpses in your wake, not the enemies in front of you." Iniquitus said, taking two more short steps towards the door. His hands were still pointed at the hall, and his eyes didn't blink.

"I am gloating to a corpse." Therran said from the dark. As he spoke, a startling hiss echoed in the hall, and a red blade appeared in his hand. "You can't harm me, and you don't have the power to save yourself."

Iniquitus scowled, and hurled another brilliant bolt of lightning at his now visible apprentice. Brighter than the last, it illuminated the hall, and the lightning ripped deep scars into the walls.

Therran raised his blade up, holding it in two hands, with its tip pointed to the ceiling. Bracing himself, he held the blade against the bolts. The bright light hit the red blade, and with a squeal of energy, ended.

Iniquitus stared in fury, his hands trembling. With a roar of frustration, he sent more lightning towards his apprentice, tearing at the marble around the doorway in his rage. Energy ripped along the hall, tore into marble and soldiers with ease, and sent the men near Therran reeling.

Therran stood, and as the lightning struck the blade, it broke and vanished.

Iniquitus stumbled, his hands on his legs. He gasped for breath, and bent his knees to catch himself. Only his eyes stayed fixed on his enemy, eyes that betrayed the fear that he now felt.

Therran smirked, and reached behind him. Under his cloak, tied to his back, was a long cylinder, a tube large enough to fit an arm inside. He leveled it at Iniquitus, and said "I win."

A new scream filled Iniquitus' ears, as a rocket sped towards him. For the palace guards, there was just enough time to blink twice before the hall erupted into flame.

* * *

"What happened next?" Beriven asked, enthralled.

"I survived, obviously." Iniquitus said, taking a deep breath. "But there's a lesson in it, one you absolutely must mark if you are going to survive your lessons. The greatest weapon that this power gives you, more than anything else, is the ability to know how to win. To see beyond sight, to foresee beyond intellect, and to know how your actions affect those things. Being able to hurl lightning at your foes, choke the life out of them, even the ability to see armies across worlds and see your foe's plans, are only tools that can be beaten by better ones. The only unconquerable power is knowing how you can win. Do you understand?"

"Like a Dejarek board, master?" Marius asked.

"Every type of power is just a piece on the board. Except knowledge, which is what makes those pieces dangerous." Beriven affirmed.

"Except knowledge is also knowing what pieces you and your enemies actually have, and unlike Dejarek, you can't always see all the pieces." Marius added.

"Good. You two really have been listening. Now, this is the only time I will ever show you this. It's what happened to me in that hall, the mark of my failure. It was the price I paid for not knowing my apprentice's power. It is less than the price my apprentice will pay for not being able to follow through."

The darkness around Iniquitus seemed to part a little, as he reached one gloved hand to the wrappings around his face. The black cloth made the skin seem all that much lighter, as it came into view. Slowly, as if unwrapping each layer was painful, Iniquitus unwound the cloth around his face.

Most of the skin beneath his face was stark pale, and caught every change of the firelight. Along that brilliantly white skin were deep blue lines, of veins across the face, that looked as if someone had drawn them across his face with a knife.

Along the forehead, and all across the top right half of his face, was a series of black scars. It startled the boys, but in the firelight, the skin looked as if it still smoldered. Even the smell of the smoke from the fire seemed to eminate instead from the newly exposed skin.

"My lightning was enough to destroy the missile, but the explosion was close enough to leave me marked. The pain hasn't stopped, even a year after it happened. Each and every day, it feels just as it did when I first felt it."

* * *

Iniquitus awoke to his own howls, as he screamed into the air and clutched his face. His eyes suddenly wide, he looked around wildly and raised his hands, as if to strike down whoever was causing him this pain.

"You have no enemies here, sire." Martiam said, from across the room. Iniquitus stopped screaming when he heard that voice, turning his sinister eyes to meet his general.

"My face still burns." Iniquitus remarked, clutching his hand.

"We haven't been able to treat you, sire. Every time someone tried, you kept killing them. This is, actually, the first time you've been lucid since we dragged you from the palace half a day ago." Martiam explained.

"Then my apprentice-"

"Didn't secure the palace, no. I managed to bottle up the marines, cut off the power, and gassed the upper halls. The survivors retreated. The damage, however, is already done."

"Explain that." Iniquitus commanded, sitting up.

"He managed to get into the throne room long enough to talk to Marshall Doran of the Ninth. The Marshall relayed what he had been told, of course, and the generals are coming here to liberate the city. Six battalions will be here in less than four hours."

"Liberate?" Iniquitus asked, his voice hoarse with rage.

"Their words, sire. Free the world from the tyranny of iniquity." Martiam confirmed. "Marshall Doran was already on his way, when reports came in about us dropping two of the Armada's ships. They were less than nine hours away, before Therran got a hold of him. He's twenty minutes away from the city walls."

"Most of the generals, after hearing Therran from your throne, are operating under his assertion that you're dead."

"I'm dead?"

"You haven't had the opportunity to contradict him. I've been in contact with Doran for half the day, doing what I can to persuade him that your apprentice doesn't control the palace. Because you've been out of commission for the last twelve hours, though, most of the field generals are siding with Therran, and even Doran is urging me to surrender.

Quite frankly sire, this is the last time I will be able to offer you the chance to escape. Any longer, and word will get around that you're still alive. Once that happens, you'll be hunted if you escape." Martiam said, sternly.

"I see. If I choose to fight?"

"Once the city garrison realizes the odds, they'll capitulate. The palace guards might fight with you after that, but we're in this predicament partially because of their lack of competence." Martiam explained.

Iniquitus held his hand in a fist, his eyes as bloody red as some of the burns on his face. "Flee now, or flee and be hunted. Fighting is no longer an option." Iniquitus muttered to himself, his quiet words quivering with rage. "Once the generals are committed to this treachery, they'll follow through. They have no choice. Disloyalty is death, by mine or my enemy's hands. If they turn again, they make themselves disloyal not only to me, but my erstwhile apprentice.

Tell me, General, do you think Therran knows I live still?" Iniquitus asked.

"I am almost certain he believes you're dead, sire. He's left himself just a little too exposed with his assurances to the generals. If you had woken up three hours ago, you might have been able to use it against him." Martiam replied.

"Any other proof?" Iniquitus said.

"Only that he's offering me a conditional surrender. An immediate ceasefire, amnesty to every soldier and officer, and a generous pension to spend my retirement. He even offered to put a statue of me in the garden district." Martiam said, with a hint of scorn in his voice.

"A statue? Interesting." Iniquitus mused. "How long do you have to accept his offer?"

"Another thirty minutes. Otherwise, the bombardment starts again."

Iniquitus stood, slowly, and stepped towards the open window. Outside, he could see one of the four ships still floating in the skies above the city. "I will come back for my throne. You will live to see it happen."

Martiam didn't reply, and the silence stretched into minutes.

"I will need you to keep yourself informed about the politics of Courascent. Keep watch on the temperament of the generals, particularly their loyalty. Political movements, dissidence, all of it. It's information I will need in a hurry when I return, information that will save me years of planning. Beyond that, General, take your retirement." Iniquitus replied.

"Sire." Martiam saluted.

Iniquitus smiled. "I see you left no one else in the room. Your heart is still too soft for my liking, general. I trust the status of my health is a matter you've kept close to your chest?"

"Of course. As soon as I procure a body, I'll have it flash-burned with munitions. Once that happens, not even your apprentice will doubt that you've been killed." Martiam answered.

"Do you think my apprentice will really spare you?" Iniquitus asked.

"I do, sire. His success was precarious, and still depends on the good graces of the army's generals. My summary execution would suggest that their heads were also in line for the cutting block, and he can't afford to neuter the army because it's the only thing preventing a massive civil uprising. Particularly in the former city-states." Martiam replied.

The former Lord of the Obsidian Throne regarded his general for a long, quiet moment. "You're planning to rebel, aren't you? Itamus would revolt if you were executed, and the other city states would follow. If my apprentice can't afford to execute you, how can he expect to withstand your open rebellion?"

Iniquitus only turned back to the window, staring at the armada's ships. "How do you plan on getting my ship out unnoticed?"

"On one of the cargo train lines. There's a lot of ship wreckage that will need to be transported, and mixing a small ship into it shouldn't be a problem if I grease a few palms. Claiming salvage shouldn't raise too many eyebrows, particularly since it will be Marshall Doran claiming it."

"Won't the Marshall wonder about an unexpected gift?" Iniquitus asked.

"He already knows about receiving a ship. The fact that there will be two on the train isn't a detail I bothered to relay." Martiam added.

"I see. Where do you plan on sending me?" Iniquitus asked.

"The ship has a hyperdrive, so I would suggest Laxum. You should be able to blend in there better than one of the inhabited planets explorers have found. It's your choice, of course, and I've assembled as complete a hyperspace database as I could find."

"Very good." Iniquitus said. "When does the train leave?"

"In six hours. It reaches its destination a week later, where you should be able to take off without anyone noticing. I've left the manual inside, in case you need it. There was no time to find a qualified pilot."

"It will do."

* * *

"We were wrong." Marius admitted.

"We thought Therran simply wasn't a good enough general, to let you escape." Beriven agreed.

"Your apprentice is actually an idiot." Marius said.

"You think so?" Iniquitus said. "You honestly regard someone capable enough to turn the admirals against their lord, and drive me from my own throne was a bungling fool who just got lucky?"

"Well," Marius started, but Iniquitus interrupted him.

"Luck doesn't exist. Nothing happens that isn't within someone's capacity to achieve. If they can do it on occasion, they can learn to do it consistently. Now, keeping that in mind, why do you think my apprentice is such a fool?"

"Because he won't be able to control the world as you were able to. His original plan was probably to use the armada to keep the people fearful, and cull the army's generals to keep them loyal. Since Martiam used a vastly inferior force to not only hold them off for five days, but drop two of them, he'll need the army to do the job he thought the armada could. Since the army wasn't particularly loyal to him in the first place, he can't use them the way you could. Nor can he remove generals to keep the others loyal. He couldn't even hang Martiam as a traitor." Marius insisted.

"He isn't strong enough to make the people fear him, or inspiring enough to make the army love him. Even if you don't return, he might be overthrown by the army." Beriven agreed.

Iniquitus looked startled as they spoke. "I hadn't considered this. Not this completely. I wonder if perhaps I should kill you both before you, like him, feel you've grown too much to benefit from my tutelage."

Both boys gulped, but held their seats.

"Do you understand my anger, boys?" Inqitus said, his hands clenched.

"No, master." Marius said. "He became what he is because of your tutelage."

"I do, master." Beriven said. "I believe you're angry because you felt pride in your apprentice's success, and to have it regarded as a weak creation makes you look even weaker."

"Is that true?" Marius asked.

"It is." Iniquitus admitted. "I won't live forever, though it will be a long time yet before my will fails. It is a matter of pride to be able to create such strength. When I return, if I fail to reclaim the throne, it is only an example of the power I created. If I succeed, I will have become more powerful for it."

He paused, and stared at Marius for a long moment. "I see. You understood that pride, even if you didn't understand my anger. What you're saying is that your own growth, enough to understand the failings of my apprentice's rule, is only another example of my own capacity."

Marius nodded in agreement.

"The two of you need to get your feet wet. Your pride for your own shrewd minds needs to be mellowed, if you're going to learn properly. It's perhaps time that you tried, and failed, so that you can learn the anger you will need."

"I'll think on it. Now, I can do without any more distractions. Sleep." He ordered. The two boys curled up as close to the fire as they dared, and closed their eyes.


	19. Chapter 15, What is Darker

Sunlight had only begun to creep along the treetops above their heads, when Marius awoke. It was a habit of his, a legacy of spending a childhood on a farm, to be awake for the first sign of the morning.

His first sight, was to see the man he now called Master, already awake, and staring at the fire as if he wished to destroy it. His heavy cloak, that he usually wore all the time, was left discarded under a tree, and for the first time, Marius could see the bandages extended all across his arms and torso.

He didn't move, pretending to be asleep, and through narrowly opened eyes, took his first opportunity to study him.

He was wrapped, almost from head to toe, in black bandage tape. Wrapped neatly around his fingers, his torso, and even his face, they were left open enough for a tuff of hair on the left side of his head. The hair that grew out of that gap hung, straight and greasy, down to his chin.

The face was almost completely covered in the same bandages, wrapped straight around his nose, chin, cheeks and forehead. The only slits were wide enough for his eyes, the bottom of his nose, and a slit for his mouth.

The bandages were wrapped carefully around the face, enough that the jaw seemed to be able to move without impediment. The bandages went right around his fingertips, which looked undamaged despite the lightning he conjured from his fingers.

The only break from the monochrome was the small silver cylinder, the hilt of his apprentice's parting gift, the laser sword.

Marius frowned to himself. Half mumbling, he said "that's a terrible name."

Iniquitus' eyes opened wide. Though he didn't move, his eyes were instantly fixed on Marius, with the terrifying intensity that his eyes always seemed to have. Marius flinched, and stumbled backwards.

"Did you say something, child?" Iniquitus asked, with a hint of scorn.

"I..." Marius began, and faltered.

"A terrible name for what?" Iniquitus asked in response, sitting up easily. "What were you naming, in that mind of yours?"

Iniquitus paused, and looked down at his belt. He pointed at the metal cylinder at his belt. "That?"

Marius nodded, swallowing hard. "Laser sword sounds stupid"

Iniquitus chuckled softly. "It does. If you come up with a better name for it, let me know." He paused, and looked over at Beriven, who was still fast asleep. "Wake your friend. I have a task in mind."

Marius crawled over, and whispered "Beriven, wake up."

It took a few moments, but when Beriven's eyes opened, he immediately shot upright and looked over at Iniquitus. "Sorry, master. I must have overslept."

Iniquitus only scowled in response. "Before I found the two of you, I had in mind to return to Coruscant soon, after procuring a ship. However, I need to teach the two of you, and such things require time. I also need a certain amount of freedom, which requires resources. We will need to procure them, and establish ourselves well enough that we don't need to constantly worry over food."

"We also," Iniquitus added "need to keep a low profile. General Verre's former lieutenant can be trusted to keep quiet about my identity, but we should stay away from the cities for a time. There is a village just two hour's walk south. It will be your task to come up with a way to get us food, shelter, and some amount of money. Your plan should balance our need for resources, free time, and anonymity. We'll start packing now, so you have a little less than two hours to conspire."

"But master, two hours is how long it takes to walk there! There is no time to plan." Beriven exclaimed, indignant.

Iniquitus smiled, and said "you have two hours."

The boys sulked as they started packing, and muttered to each other as quietly as they could manage.

"What are we going to do?" Beriven asked.

Marius shrugged helplessly. He looked worried, as he stole a glance back at the former Emperor of Coruscant.

"I mean, I suppose we could find work, but that cuts into the whole 'free time' thing." Beriven said. "I don't think Master would put up with evenings and weekends."

"True." Marius agreed. He rolled the last of his sleeping bag into its small pack, and put it with the rest of his gear. "And living in the woods is out. Not enough resources for whatever he's going to teach us."

"Agreed." Beriven said. "Rob a moneylender, or a rich consortium?"

"Do you really want to steal?" Marius asked, quietly.

"No. But it does get us what we need quickly."

"It's also dangerous and attracts a lot of attention." Marius countered. "Not only could we get caught, but people would always be suspicious of where we got the money from."

"True." Beriven agreed.

"Shipping." Marius said, after a quiet moment.

"We need a ship." Beriven noted.

"We have one. Or at least, a working hyperdrive." Marius noted.

"True. We just need to procure the rest of a ship. But we don't have the skills for that." Beriven pointed out. "I suppose we could ask how badly damaged the ship is."

"You're thinking we could repair it?" Marius asked.

"It would be a lot simpler than getting a new one, and then trying to fit another ship's hyperdrive onto it." Beriven pointed out.

"True." Marius agreed. He scampered ahead slightly, until he was a step behind Iniquitus, who was just beginning to crest a small hill. "Master," he said.

"You wish to use my ship in some fashion, to procure funds?" Iniquitus asked.

"We do, Master."

"Selling the hyperdrive is off the table. There isn't anyone on this moon who has a true estimation of it's worth to a planet that does not have one."

"Not that, master. We wish to use the ship." Marius answered.

"Shipping drugs and other contraband substances isn't the low profile I had in mind." Iniquitus noted.

"Not contraband, Master. Legal trade." Marius said.

"Prudent, but often very far from lucrative." Iniquitus replied. "Did you have a particular product in mind?"

"A few things, Master. When Beriven and I were in Vos Ma'ar, we met in a grocer that had recently gone under. The owners were attempting to take the most lucrative foodstuffs, and fly off-world with it. Apparently, they were poised to make an enormous sum of money." Marius explained.

Iniquitus nodded solemnly. "Were I offering you a simpler life, I believe I would readily seize on this plan. However, the difficulty in this option lies in how many people you must satisfy. We may find, my young apprentice, that we are far busier than we might like."

"I see. We would fly at someone else's demands. This, Master, is why I believe it would work best in a small farming community, such as the one we are going to." Marius said. Beriven caught up, and panting slightly, added "We might make enough money in a month or two of work, to satisfy our needs for an entire year."

Iniquitus stopped, and turned his gaze on the two boys. His eyes held a glint of anger, and both boys found their knees shake a little as he regarded them. "A clever plan. Impossible, though, without some knowledge of hyperspace routes, and potential markets. Though I suspect you have heard something about possible destinations."

"Better, master." Beriven said. "The Don of Vos Ma'ar has a smuggler under employ, a Gothe Mortimer. He was a family friend of Marius'. He may be willing to point us in the right direction, so long as we don't present any direct competition."

"Clever." Iniquitus said. "And I must admit, surprising. I had conceived this lesson to humble you. Instead, you conquer." Iniquitus shook his head, clenching his fists. "Therran could not have thought this plan up. Not at your age, anyway."

"It helps being together in this, Master."

"It isn't that. If this were an idea only one of you could have come up with, only one of you would have. Instead, you grow ideas by leaping off each other's thoughts. What either one of you could eventually do, you together do in mere minutes." Iniquitus said, waving in front of him. "The town, after all, is still not in sight."

"When I say Therran could not have come up with this plan, I mean to say that if I had given him a year, it would not have occurred to him. That you lack his viciousness is plain, but that same cruelty seems, almost, to blind him to possibilities. I nurtured his strengths, I'll admit, without considering the limitations of his natural inclinations. He was cruel, often for the sake of cruel. Without purpose. There is little point in such things."

He turned to them, and his eyes still flint hard, said "I will do better, by the two of you. I was never cruel without purpose, never a tyrant without cause. There is only one thing that matters when you walk the path of conquest."

"The capacity to see how you can win, above and beyond all else." The boys spoke, in unison. "Every other strength is neutered without it,"

"And even the greatest of victories is a hollow, cheap failure." Iniquitus finished. "You learn well, both of you. I'm compelled to spout far more praise than I should."

"Thank you, Master." Beriven said, and Marius nodded in agreement.

Iniquitus wasn't listening, as his attention was caught by something neither boy could perceive. They turned to each other, sharing a confused, concerned moment, then turned back to Iniquitus.

"What is it, Master?" Marius asked.

"Can't you sense it?" Iniquitus asked in turn, pointing ahead.

"No, master." Marius admitted.

Beriven, however, hunched his shoulders and sat down, concentrating on that strange trick of his to look ahead. He focused himself as best he could, slowed his breathing, and let his thoughts settle on the distance ahead of him.

It took a few moments, before his sight left the limits of his eyes, and he felt the small, bright flares of people, still miles ahead. He couldn't sense a great deal, but there was a tinge of something surrounding them. It felt like pain.

"Pain, master, and screams." Beriven said.

"Well done, my young apprentice." He turned back to Marius. "Ahead of us, the village is under attack. This power that emanates through us is affected by such things. Their anguish, their pain, their deaths will linger in the village for a time. We may have to pick a different village."

"But Master," Marius began, then paused, as Iniquitus shot him a look of scorn. "Master, if we were to defeat those bandits, we might be able to negotiate with the village for what we want, from a position of strength."

Iniquitus let his scowl fade from what could be seen of his face, though it didn't leave his eyes. "Your motives are plain enough, Marius. You wished to help that village long before you spoke, or discovered a motive I might agree with."

He turned, and started walking ahead. "I am almost tempted to let that village burn, to spite your compassion. But I should teach you both, now, how I commanded armies and controlled civilizations."

"I'll teach this as we walk. We still have more than an hour until we reach the village." Iniquitus said, starting into a steady march. Both boys fell in behind him.

"Master, shouldn't we hurry?" Marius asked.

"Why?" Iniquitus asked. "The raiders want a cow for years of milk, rather than a week of steak. It's easier by far to live off another's work than your own."

"But people are sill dying, aren't they?" Marius asked.

"Irrelevant." Iniquitus said.

"But-" Marius began, but a quiet glance from Iniquitus stopped him.

"Marius, understand something. Your compassion is idiocy. If you run, you will only meet your enemy tired and unprepared. I won't yet condone this excessive concern for ethics, but there is no point in just making yourself another victim. Even your ethics should demand that you do as much as you can. Blindly charging forward is a cheap way to deny the responsibility you feel you have to those villagers. The best way to help them, if you do not have the power to do so yourself, is aid someone who does."

Marius swallowed hard. "I understand, Master."

They marched along in silence, both boys keeping pace a few steps behind Iniquitus, who seemed comfortable taking the lead.

"I was never unnecessarily cruel." Iniquitus said, as they crested another small hill. The village was now in sight, and both boys could see smoke rising from a few of the buildings. There was no sign of fighting, no flash of blaster fire, causing Marius to sigh in relief.

"I was never unnecessarily cruel." Iniqutus said again, quietly.

"Master?" Beriven asked.

"Every cruelty I visited on resisting enemies, or upon the people under my thumb, was a necessary one. Many years ago, during the conquest of the Confederacy, I did three very different things to three different cities. Itamius, Volshan and Tor'ol. Do any of those names ring a bell?"

"Itamius is the city that General Verre was from." Beriven noted.

"Tor'ol is a major spaceport now, isn't it?" Marius asked.

"Both are correct. Now, I would've been very surprised if either of you had heard of Volshan, because it doesn't exist anymore. Those three were my first targets when I invaded the confederacy."

"Was it the amount of resistance the cities showed?" Beriven asked.

"It couldn't have bee just that. You said that Itamius was the ninth city to fall, and it still exists. You wouldn't have found General Verre so remarkable if someone else had held out longer." Marius noted.

"Quite right, young master Altaire. It wasn't their resistance that mattered in of itself. Resistance is useful. The most rebellious, independent minded people rise up on those occasions, and if you kill them off in the inevitable conflict, the rest of the population is much more compliant.

Volshan was the first city that fell to my armies. Tor'ol was the second. Both fell within four days."

"What happened to them both?"

"Well, when I sent emissaries demanding they secede from the Confederacy and enter my Empire, Tor'ol sent them back in a shuttle with a suitable sum of money to purchase my consulate in the city, and informed me that they would be cutting off diplomatic relations for a year.

Volshan shot my messanger, and hung his body in the public square."

"Well, that was stupid." Marius said.

"Agreed." Beriven added.

"Indeed it was." Iniquitus smiled, without warmth. "When Tor'ol capitulated, I offered them a conditional surrender and invested the money they spent on my consulate to rebuilding some of the damage the invasion caused. The Senate, their governing body, remained in charge of local affairs and taxation remained relatively light.

Volshan, after I butchered their army, was bombarded for a week straight. Keep in mind, Aryan Maizer was only four years old then. There were no energy shields."

"You destroyed a whole city just because they hung your messenger?"

"Contempt is death. Your contempt blinds you to the potential of those you rule, be it what they could do on your behalf, or how dangerous enemies they could make. Your subject's contempt for you blinds them to the danger of your wrath, and inspires those who would overthrow you. Contemptible gestures, more than any sort of resistance, need to be made an example of." Iniquitus explained.

"After that week, I declared that there were no survivors. If any did, they would be obliged to find identities and lives elsewhere. If any claimed their heritage, they were obviously insane, and incarcerated for their own protection."

"Marius?" Iniquitus asked.

"Yes, Master?"

"Your fellow Apprentice can use this power already. He has learned to sense things though the currents that flow through it, and can discern some of their meanings. Can you?" Iniquitus asked, not turning his head.

"No, Master." Marius admitted, and then caught his breath.

As he finished speaking, he flinched, threw his hands around his head, and dove to the side. His shoulder had barely hit the dirt before Iniquitus' hand pointed to him, fingers outstretched, lightning crackled along his fingers.

Iniquitus still hadn't finished turning as he grit his teeth, and the lightning was already dancing between his fingertips as Marius forced himself as close to the ground as he could. Beriven, a few feet away, only had time to widen his eyes in shock, as lighting flew through the air above his friend.

"Master!" Beriven shrieked, his heart suddenly hammering.

Marius, staring intently, scrambled to his feet and dashed behind the nearest tree. He crouched, his eyes scanning wildly for a potential path for escape.

Iniquitus, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed beneath the bandages, rasped a strange noise almost under his breath. It took a moment for Beriven to realize his master was chuckling.

The chuckle turned into outright laughter, as Iniquitus let his hand fall to his side. Steadily, his laughing grew louder, and he turned his head to the sky and howled.

He turned his attention back to his apprentices, and though the laughter faded from the air, the feirce, predatory grin never left his face.

"No, my young apprentice." Iniquitus said to Marius, taking a few steps towards the tree the young boy cowered behind. "You can't use it as your brother does. But you saw, or you knew, just before it happened. You knew what I was going to do."

"You were testing him, Master?" Beriven exclaimed, indignant.

Beriven's bravery faltered as Iniquitus turned and glared at him. "Of course. You didn't think my training would be simple, would it?"

"But that could have k-killed him!" Beriven exclaimed, despite his fear.

"No. But it would have hurt. A lot." Iniquitus replied. "So, Marius, there is something about what you did that I don't understand yet. You're safe for now, you did well." Iniquitus said, holding his hands out in benediction.

"Master, was that really just a test?" Marius asked. His face was pale, and his hands shook. His voice, though clear, was quiet, and his eyes stared intently at the former Emperor of Courescant.

"Of course. I just told you that I am not unnecessarily cruel. Now, young master Altaire, what I want to know is, when you knew what I was going to do, did you see it happening before it happened, or did you just know?"

Marius gulped, and took a few deep breaths to calm himself. "I just knew."

"Master." Iniquitus said, in warning.

"Master, sorry." Marius apologized. "It definitely wasn't a vision."

"Now, your reaction. Did you 'know' that you would escape by ducking down like that?" Iniquitus asked, slowly.

"I knew it would get me out of the way, if I moved fast enough." Marius replied.

"But you didn't know if you could move fast enough, which would explain your fear." Iniquitus said. "This also means you didn't know until I took that last step before I turned. Is that correct?" Iniquitus asked.

"I think so, Master." Marius said.

"Now, your reaction. Why did you know that ducking down would work?" Iniquitus asked.

"I knew you'd be aiming at my chest, Master. I think..." Marius paused, thinking. "I think I also knew that it was focused in a kind of circle about this big." Marius held his hands, holding one hand at his belly-button, and the other at his nose. "I knew I needed to get out of that sort of area to avoid being hit."

"When you knew, did it come with a way to avoid being it?"

"No, Master. Not at all. I just hoped that dropping to the ground would work."

Iniquitus smiled to himself, and nodded. "This power manifests itself in strange ways, though I suspect you can learn and master what doesn't come to you naturally. I take it this isn't the first time you 'knew' something was about to happen."

Iniquitus turned, and beckoned the boys to follow. They fell into step, though a little further behind than before.

"Well?" Iniquitus asked.

"It isn't, Master." Marius admitted.

"Has it happened often?" Iniquitus asked.

"Only a few times, though much more lately." Marius replied, surprised by his answer. "It's happened a lot since we met you, master."

"Ever sense I taught you both to feel this power?" Iniquitus asked.

"Yes, Master. Ever since."

Iniquitus nodded, though the boys couldn't see the expression on his face. "Good, good. The power responds to your will and desires, and your will to survive has given you a very useful tool."

"But enough for now. I have to consider how best to approach our new problem." He said, pointing to the village. It was now close enough that the boys could make out which homes were burning, and could see some small shapes huddled in what looked like the middle of the town.

They made their way in silence for a few more minutes, Iniquitus lost in contemplation, and the boys too afraid to speak. They stole fearful glances at each other a few times, but otherwise resolutely stared at the grass and rocks that passed beneath them.

As they grew closer, they could see that many people, much of the village, was gathered at the square. A few bodies were visible, even from the distance, and the fires were beginning to die down as they ran out of fuel.

Iniquitus grinned, and turning to the boys, said "I have a task for each of you. Beriven, you will find out which way the bandits went, however you can. Marius, look for weapons, start among the dead. Once you have finished, join me."

"Where will you be, Master?" Beriven asked.

"Negotiating with that crowd of people. If anyone asks, I'm a war veteran from..." Here, Iniquitus paused. "Tor'ol. The ship looks too familiar to pass it off as something from further away."

"Why Tor'ol, Master?" Marius asked.

"It's a spaceport. I bought the ship with my retirement pension two years ago. The shield generator failed in low orbit, which is why we crashed." Iniquitus added.

The boys nodded, though Beriven looked pensive.

"What is it?" Iniquitus asked.

"Master, what do we say your name is? If someone asks."

"Just that you both call me Master. Use the truth, since it's easier to remember than a lie. Just remember to leave out anything that might hint at who I am." Iniquitus replied, quickening his pace as they reached the edge of town.

Marius and Beriven nodded to each other, and split up.

Beriven started towards what looked like the largest pillar of smoke he could find.

His hands shook, suddenly, as he rounded the first corner and saw someone sprawled along the dirt, one hand still clinging to a small piece of cloth. The cloth was ripped, scorched a little on the edges, but it still held the soft, plush yellow colour it must have worn proudly.

Swallowing hard, Beriven tore his eyes away from that little piece of cloth and started searching again. He saw a few bits of scorching, probably from blaster fire, but found his eyes wandering back to that bit of cloth.

He wandered next to the young man holding it, and felt the piece of cloth in his hands.

It was soft, similar to mazak fur. The yellow was stained, splotches of whitened colour littered the side of it Beriven could see, and the singes could barely hide how aged it had become.

Beriven heard something a moment later, and turned his head.

Inside the doorway, just out of sight, lay the rest of that cloth.

A yellow blanket, out of which stuck a small, fat hand with very short fingers.

Beriven stepped over, and knelt beside it.

The head sticking out of the blanket had only the smallest skiff of hair along its mushy looking head. The eyes were closed, the mouth set into a hint of smile, and the bundle expanded slightly, then contracted after a few moments.

Beriven's hands shook as he reached out to that small bundle, and slowly picked it up. It didn't stir, but slept on as he held it in his arms and looked down at the man holding that small piece of cloth.

The body had three large burns, the kind caused by energy blasters. One to the lower torso, one to the right side of the man's chest, and one in the back of the neck. The face, visible from where Beriven stared, was scrunched in something that looked like pain, and the eyes were shut tight.

Clutching the bundle, and using the blanket to wipe the tears in his eyes, Beriven turned and walked away, heading straight towards the town centre.

* * *

Marius, struggling hard, tried not to really look at the bodies he passed as he searched the ground for a blaster.

He tried not to see the rape that must have happened, to the girl barely a few years older than him, who lay slumped along the wall with a blaster burn to her head.

He tried not to look back as he passed two old men, riddled with the same burns.

He even succeeded in ignoring the small group of children, no more than eight years old, who lay sprawled together in a pile in the middle of the street.

He failed, however, to ignore the smell. People choose where they cast their sight, but smell come to the nose.

It was a bitter, sickening scent that lingered in the nose long after Marius passed the source of it. The smell carried with the smoke, and lingered in his clothes, his pores, and his hair. It smelled of burning flesh, singed hair, and the stink of what bodies normally carried.

Marius had emptied his stomach already, and the impulse to heave his stomach itself out with it still surged up every few steps. His gut wrenched with his heart, and distracted by the pain, Marius took a long time to notice something important.

He had yet to see the body of one of their attackers, and he had walked through most of the village.

The villagers ran, hid, boarded up their doors.

Not one of them died with a weapon in their hands, or had dropped one as they died. No blasters, nothing more primitive, not even a club or a plasma cutter.

They had not tried to fight back.

From the hillside, Marius had seen the better part of five hundred homes, all of them close to one another. It was a small place, but even a battalion would not have been a tenth of their numbers. If they had organized a defense, even a small group of people to watch for danger, and a few blasters, some simple bandits would have been easily driven off.

For a few moments, he hated every person in that village. For not protecting their children.

But he remembered, in a heartbeat, how he had hesitated when those thugs had attacked his friends. How he hadn't thrown himself at his enemies, not until Anita and Thug had. Without them, without their courage, he would have run away, he knew that. Run away and left his friends to whatever those monsters had wanted to do to them.

Whatever it took to be willing to fight, to kill if you had to, these villagers didn't have. They were too many, and the possibility of ambushing their attackers was too good for any real attempt to have failed.

If it was courage they needed, perhaps he and Beriven could offer it to them.

Giving up his task as hopeless, Marius hurried to the centre of the town.


End file.
